Airplanes in the Night Sky
by narniagirl11
Summary: Peter considers joining the RAF despite his family's protests. As Peter becomes one of the many faceless men in uniform, Edmund worries that he will be shot down by a German. Meanwhile, Susan begins to question her faith as she leaves Narnia behind. But Lucy believes that Aslan will keep them safe - at war and on the homefront.
1. Decision

My Dear Readers,

I have had to tweak C. S. Lewis's timeline a little bit because in 1944, when this story is set, Peter would have only been 17 and I need him to be 18. So I have taken the liberty and moved his birthdate back one year to account for that. With that said, I also moved Susan, Edmund and Lucy's birthdates back a year as well, that way their ages still matched up with Peter. So in this story, Peter was born in 1926, Susan in 1927, Edmund in 1929, and Lucy in 1931.

C.S. Lewis never gives us the first names of the Pevensies' parents so I have chosen to simply call them Doctor and Mrs. Pevensie. I have tried to make their regular life as believable as possible.

This is a story that I have always wanted to write. I have always wondered that if Peter was old enough, would he have fought in the war? After many years of wondering that, I decided to answer the question for myself. RAF stands for Royal Air Force

My friends and family think I am a little bit of a Narnia nerd, but the characters as so real to me. I understand Peter and Susan the best because I can relate to them the most. Over the years, I have learned to better understand cynical Edmund, and, of course, I greatly respect Lucy for her boundless faith in the True King.

This story begins several months after the events in _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_.

~ _narniagirl11_

* * *

**Prologue**

_July 24, 1944_

Peter Pevensie's fascination with airplanes had always mystified his sister Susan. To be completely honest, it terrified her. With World War Two in full swing, Susan feared the day when her brother turned eighteen. He always assured her that the war would be over before he ever was old enough. Susan knew better. His eighteenth birthday approached rapidly and it was only mid-summer of 1944.

As Peter blew out the candles on the cake, Susan knew the adventure was about to begin. But she also knew that this really wasn't the beginning of the adventure. The adventure had started with their father's departure for the frontlines. Doctor Pevensie with the bombing in the London Blitz. She, Peter, and their younger siblings, Edmund and Lucy, had been sent to the country where they stayed with an aging professor.

One day, Lucy had discovered a wardrobe that led the four children into the magical world of Narnia. There they were thrust into an adventure complete with a Witch, Talking Animals, and of course, Him. He was the greatest of all. Without Him, they would have accomplished nothing. He was Aslan, the Great Lion, son of the Emperor-Over-The-Sea and rightful ruler of Narnia.

After the defeat of the Witch, Aslan made the four children Kings and Queens over the land. For fifteen years they ruled and they became known as High King Peter the Magnificent, Queen Susan the Gentle, King Edmund the Just and Queen Lucy the Valiant. But one day, they mysteriously fell through the wardrobe back to England. They found that hardly a moment had passed since they had first entered. They had become children again.

A year later, the four were called back to Narnia to save their beloved land from the oppressive usurper Miraz and reinstate his nephew, Caspian the Tenth, rightful heir to the throne. However, this time the Pevensie children didn't remain in Narnia. They returned to England. But their task wasn't finished. Peter and Susan were never to return to Narnia, but they were instructed to find Aslan in England, for He is called the King of Kings in every land.

Several months later, Edmund and Lucy traveled to Narnia for a third time which was to be their last. Their cousin, Eustace Clarence Scrubb (and he almost deserved that name) was dragged along with them. They sailed with King Caspian the Tenth to the end of the world. They had many thrilling adventures along the way with slave traders, a dragon, and even a sea serpent. When they returned to England, Aslan commanded them to also seek Him in England.

Two years later, they had found Him. It was no surprise that Lucy was the first. The Lion of Judah was another name for the Great Lion. The Pevensie children began to seek after Him with all their hearts.

And as Susan watched Peter blow out the candles on the cake, as she heard the clapping and felt the happiness around her, she knew that whatever became of his flying dreams, the Lion would look after her brother.

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Decision**

_September 1944_

"Ed! Edmund, come on! We're going to be late!" Peter shouted up the stairs at his brother as he finished buttoning his shirt.

"Again." Lucy reminded.

"Aunt Alberta can wait ten minutes," Edmund grumbled as he came down the stairs. Susan rushed through the door from the living room and began inspecting herself in the mirror.

"Edmund?" she called over her shoulder. "Did you remember to brush your hair?"

Edmund made a face at her back which Susan fortunately failed to notice. "Only Peter brushes his hair," he grumbled. "He never has a hair out of place."

"That's because I'm the High King!" Peter retorted. "I wouldn't brush my hair if I didn't have to!" Edmund didn't quite believe him.

"Has anyone seen my sketchbook?" Lucy wondered.

"No, sorry, Lu," Peter answered as he tied his shoes.

"I wanted to show Eustace the drawing I made of the Dawn Treader." Lucy sighed. "I guess it can wait until next time."

"Where do you think you are going?" Susan demanded. She had caught Edmund trying to sneak out the door without brushing his hair. "Whatever am I going to do with you, Ed?" she asked. She straightened his collar and brushed his hair over. Edmund tried to scowl at her, but his expression fell flat. It possessed none of its usual Edmundishness. "Ed?" Susan questioned. "Is something wrong?"

Edmund didn't answer right away. He looked over at Peter who slightly shook his head.

"Edmund, what is it that you and Peter aren't telling me?" Susan demanded in her older sister voice.

"I'm sorry, Su," was all that Edmund said before he dashed out the door.

"Peter?" Susan turned her mothering eye to her elder brother.

"We'll tell you later, Su," he answered. Then he too was out the door. Lucy looked over at Susan who sighed.

"I know, Lu," Susan remarked. "I hate it when the boys keep secrets from us."

"Come on," Lucy answered. "We're going to be late as it is."

In fact, they would be even later than they realized. The four Pevensies were on their way to pick up their aunt, their cousin Eustace and their mother from the train station. That was before Peter pulled the car over.

"Ed, look!" he shouted. He opened the door and jumped out.

"What?! Peter!" Edmund protested as he scrambled out. He shaded his eyes and looked up. At first he could see nothing in the cloudy sky. But he could hear rumbling. Edmund ducked in alarm when a plane swooped low overhead.

Peter laughed. "Come on, Ed! It's just the RAF practicing their maneuvers!" Peter followed the plane with his eyes. "Someday I will be up there," he whispered.

"No," Edmund answered. "Don't Peter. Who knows where it will take you! Don't go where I can't follow."

Peter looked back at Edmund. "Edmund, you must understand that you can't always follow. I wish you could be with me, but you won't be eighteen for three years yet! I would imagine that the War would be over by then."

"I will fight by your side again someday, Peter," Edmund vowed.

Susan interrupted them. "Can we please go?" she called as she rolled down the window. "We're going to be even later now!"

Peter nodded to Susan before whispering to Edmund, "We'll tell the girls later."

"They're not going to take it easily, Peter," Edmund warned.

Peter nodded again. "I know."

* * *

The next morning, Peter rose before anyone else was stirring. He snuck downstairs to the kitchen to begin making breakfast for his family. Pancakes were Lucy's favorite breakfast food. As Peter began making the batter, he heard a sigh from the table behind him. Startled, he turned around and saw Edmund, his head resting on the table, sleeping. In his hand was an empty glass that once contained milk. Peter smiled and moved across the kitchen to his brother.

"Ed," he whispered, brushing the dark hair out Edmund's face. "Ed, wake up." Edmund gave a little moan and released the cup, which clattered to the floor. Edmund jolted up. The first thing he saw was Peter's intense blue gaze.

"Peter!" he exclaimed, his heartbeat racing. "You scared me!"

"Obviously," Peter chuckled, looking into Edmund's startled brown eyes. "You fell asleep at the table, silly!"

"Tired," Edmund yawned. "I couldn't sleep so I came to get a glass of milk. Guess I fell asleep."

Peter watched his brother solemnly. "Ed, is there a reason why you couldn't sleep?"

"When are you going to tell them, Peter? You can't put it off forever," reminded Edmund.

"I know," Peter sighed. "If I thought it would make it any better I would leave without telling them, but I can't leave you behind to break it to them. I'll tell them after breakfast."

"Alright," Edmund agreed. "But don't put it off any longer."

"I know, Ed," Peter answered. "It was hard enough to tell you. Lucy is going to be very upset."

"Is that why you made pancakes?" Edmund asked.

"Partially." Peter smiled. He tousled Edmund's dark hair before straightening up and returning to the pancake batter. Just as the pancakes were sizzling on the griddle, a cheerful Lucy bounded into the kitchen, wearing a red floral sundress.

"Hello, Lu!" Peter greeted. "Or should I call you 'Sunshine'?" Lucy laughed brightly and stood on her tiptoes, trying to give her big brother a kiss on his cheek. She found she still wasn't quite tall enough. Peter laughed and stooped down so she could complete her mission successfully.

"Pancakes!" Lucy exclaimed, as she noticed them cooking. "Thank you, Peter!"

"You're welcome," Peter answered, flipping the golden-brown circles. Lucy noticed Edmund at the table and slid into the chair beside him.

"Hello, Ed!" Lucy greeted.

He smiled back. "Is Su up yet?" he asked.

Lucy nodded. "She'll be down soon."

For the next few minutes, Peter, Edmund and Lucy laughed and joked with each other. It was times like these that Peter thought his little sister was made of pure sunlight.

Susan hurried into the room, giving her siblings brief hellos. Peter wasn't surprised by her cold manner. Susan tended to shut herself off from everyone when she was upset or uneasy about things.

"Su," he whispered.

"Don't get syrup on that new shirt," Susan cautioned as she moved over to him.

"Thanks, Su," Peter answered. He looked closely at her face. She looked like she had been crying. "Are you alright, Su?" he asked.

"No," she sniffled.

"What is it, Susan?" he questioned.

"Come," she beckoned.

He nodded. "Edmund, keep an eye on the pancakes for a moment. I'll be right back." He followed Susan out of the kitchen, through the living room and up the stairs. They passed Mrs. Pevensie on the way. "The pancakes are almost done, Mum," Peter announced. "Susan and I will be back in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Peter." Mrs. Pevensie smiled. Peter nodded and Susan led him up the stairs. She directed him towards the room that he shared with Edmund. She pushed open the door and pointed towards a navy blue uniform hanging inside the open closet.

"What is _that_?" Susan demanded distastefully.

Peter sighed. "I was going to tell you after breakfast, Su."

"Is this what you and Edmund have been whispering about?" she questioned.

"Yes, it is," Peter admitted.

"You're joining the RAF?" Susan turned to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. She knew how brave Peter was and she knew that in Narnia he had always come back from battles, but here? With air battle fields, machine guns, tanks…this was a different kind of war. "Peter! What are you thinking?" she sobbed. "You could get killed! And you don't know a thing about flying a plane!"

"I'll learn," Peter answered. "You worry too much, Susan. You're listening to your fears again. God will keep me safe." He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Buck up, Su. This is just another adventure He has set before us."

Susan tried to smile but she couldn't shake her doubts.

Lucy's voice came floating up the stairs to them. "Peter! I think you better come down here. Edmund is burning the pancakes again!" Lucy shouted.

Peter smiled. "Come on, Queen Susan. Our royal siblings await us." He offered her his arm which she took and they glided down the stairs together. When they reached the kitchen, they silently slid into their seats at the table.

"Ready?" Edmund asked. Everyone bowed their heads as Edmund led them in prayer. "Thank you, Lord, for this beautiful morning with our family. Protect Dad as he cares for soldiers on the frontlines. Watch over our family today as we go about our day. In Your Name we pray, Amen."

"Amen." Everyone echoed. Soon the kitchen was filled with the normal sounds of breakfast. Forks and knives clattered, water was gulped, and pancakes quickly disappeared. At last, Peter pushed his plate away and cleared his throat.

"I have an announcement to make," he said. He looked around at the familiar faces at the table. Edmund shared a knowing look with his brother. Susan looked between the two, knowing what Peter was about to announced. Lucy was the only one who didn't know now. Peter had long ago consulted his mother on the matter and she knew of his decision. After all, she was the one who had ironed his uniform and shed a few tears for her son while she worked.

"What is it, Peter?" Lucy asked. She watched Peter expectantly.

"You know that I've always had a fascination with airplanes," Peter confessed nervously. "I'm eighteen now; old enough to enlist."

"No!" Lucy exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, Lu," Peter answered. "But I feel this is where God is leading me."

"You're joining the Royal Air Force?" Lucy questioned.

"Yes, Lucy." Peter nodded.

"When do you leave?" Susan asked.

"It's off to flight school first," Peter replied. "I leave next week. I should have told you sooner, but I didn't want you worry too much."

"Please be careful," Lucy begged. Peter reached his arm across the table and took his little sister's hand in his own.

"He will keep me safe, Lucy," Peter answered.

* * *

**Author's note: **Well, that was the first chapter! More is in story for the Pevensies. I actually had originally posted a different version of this chapter. But now that I have written farther, I went back and rewrote it. :) Hope you enjoyed it. Review!


	2. Departure

**Chapter 2 – Decision and Departure**

"Where are they?" Edmund worried impatiently. "Come on! How long can girls take?"

"Edmund, calm down," Peter soothed. "They probably just got delayed."

"I know, but still," Edmund continued pacing around the train platform. Peter watched him march back and forth from his seat on a bench.

"It's not just the girls you're worried about, is it?" Peter asked. Edmund didn't answer. "Ed, I know you are worried about me, but I'll be fine. I can take care of myself."

"No, you can't!" Edmund exclaimed. "How many times in Narnia have I had to come save you? You are forever charging full speed into the thickest part of things. If only you weren't so insanely heroic."

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't be fulfilling my job as High King and as a brother," Peter answered.

"Maybe not," Edmund replied. "But that would be better than you dying!"

"Edmund," Peter said in a voice that commanded attention. "I know you love me but please stop worrying. I'm in Aslan's hands – paws, really. What becomes of me is up to him. He knows what he's doing. Lucy has said that so many times but it rings truer every time."

Edmund sighed deeply; his eyes finally stopped flashing angrily.

"You're right, Pete. Your fate is up to Aslan." The two brothers sat together in silence for a bit until a piercing whistle shattered it.

"First call for Trowbridge!" hollered the station master. "First call for Trowbridge!"

"That's my train," Peter announced, almost to himself. He wished he could tear up the ticket in his pocket. If he could destroy that, then he wouldn't be going away. He wouldn't be leaving his family. He wouldn't be going to flight school and he wouldn't be going to war.

As soon as Edmund heard the call, he unconsciously tensed and felt the butterflies rising in his stomach again. He glared angrily at the men in uniform that were gathered about the crowded station. Many were just lads, Peter's age, yet Edmund felt a pang of jealousy. They would be fighting with Peter; not him. He couldn't fight beside his brother; not yet.

Peter took one look at his face. "Edmund," he warned.

"I-I'm fine," Edmund stuttered. "I'll b-be okay."

"You're the man of the family now," Peter commented, looking at his brother with admiration. Edmund's mind cried out against the words.

_No! No!_ his heart screamed, as he closed his eyes. _You can't leave. I need you! It's always been you and me, Peter. You can't leave me here! I want to come with!_

"They need you, Edmund," Peter continued. "Mum needs you. Susan needs you. Lucy needs you. Especially Lucy. This is going to be a hard blow for her."

"Second call for Trowbridge!" the station master cried again. "Second call!"

Edmund desperately tried to swallow the fears that were plaguing him. _Peter is going to be killed. He'll die over there. I might never see him again. Where are the girls? They were supposed to be here. They'll miss seeing Peter off. It__ will break their hearts. _

"Stay, Peter, please?" begged Edmund. "Don't go. Not today, anyway. Wait for the girls."

"Edmund," Peter answered gravely. "You know I can't do that. The folks are waiting for me at Trowbridge. Oh, I wish I could stay. But duty is calling and I can't ignore it any longer." Peter paused.

Edmund looked into Peter's eyes that were bright with tears. A couple tears began to fall down his cheeks. This was it; the beloved brothers were really being separated. Peter suddenly pulled Edmund into a tight hug.

"I love you, Edmund," Peter whispered into his brother's dark hair. Edmund just hugged him tightly back, not able to speak. "And Ed?" Peter asked. "You will tell Mum and the girls that I love them, won't you?"

"Y-yes," Edmund whispered, trying not to cry more. "Of c-course."

"You can tell us yourself," came a girlish voice. Peter let go of Edmund in surprise and spun around to see Susan, Lucy and Mrs. Pevensie standing there. Edmund just sighed in relief. They had made it after all.

"Y-you're here!" Peter stammered excitedly.

"You didn't think we'd just let you go, did you?" asked Susan.

"Well…" hesitated Peter. "You hadn't showed up and we were beginning to think you wouldn't make it in time."

"Sorry about that," Mrs. Pevensie apologized. "I couldn't remember if I had turned the oven off when we left the house. We were half way here when I couldn't remember. We had to turn around and go back. I didn't want to come home and find our house had burned down."

"That's alright, Mum," Peter replied, smiling.

"Oh, Peter!" cried Lucy, running forward and throwing herself at him. "Why do you have to go? Can't you stay?"

"What's done is done, Lucy," replied Peter, stroking her hair. He noted sadly that she wasn't a little girl anymore; she was a mature young lady. "I can't go back now. But don't cry," he instructed, turning her face to look at him. "This bond between us can't be broken. We will always have each other and it will always be the four of us. You will be in my heart forever and ever."

"And ever and after?" Lucy asked.

"And ever and after," Peter confirmed. Satisfied with this, Lucy hugged him tightly once more before standing beside Edmund. He took her hand comfortingly.

"I'm proud of you, Peter," Mrs. Pevensie said. "You are a brave young man. You're following in your father's footsteps. I'm sure he would be proud of you, too."

"Thank you, Mum," Peter answered, hugging her gently. Though he was several inches taller than her, it didn't bother him when she kissed his cheek like she used to when he was a little boy of seven. She handed him a basket containing lunch.

"I love you," she said. "Be a good man."

"I will," Peter promised.

Now Susan was the only one who hadn't said goodbye. She hung back, not wanting to face that fact that her brother was actually leaving.

Peter, sensing her thoughts, said, "Susan, it's just flight school right now. I probably won't even see any action." Susan remained doubtful but came forward to embrace her brother. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her tear-stained face in his shoulder.

"Please be careful," she whispered.

"I will, Su. I will," he promised.

"Last call for Trowbridge!" The call came harsh and commanding. "Last call!"

"I have to go, Su," Peter stated as Susan slowly let go. "Take care now."

"Don't forget us," Susan begged.

"Oh, Susan," Peter whispered. "I could _never_ forget you. I love you."

Susan reached up to touch the locket hanging around her neck. It had been a present from her father on her eighth birthday. That had been before the war.

"I'll put your picture in here with Dad's," Susan promised. Peter squeezed her hand gently and smiled warmly at his family in goodbye. Dropping Susan's hand, he stooped to pick up his bag while Edmund carried the lunch basket.

"Need I ask you to look after the girls?" Peter asked Edmund in a quieter tone.

"Of course not. I have it sorted."

"You're welcome," Peter retorted teasingly. He added in a serious tone, "Thanks, Ed. You still have my back."

Then, almost as a different person, King Peter the Magnificent turned and boarded the train. His family, nor he, knew what would be in store for him as he began a new adventure. But this adventure he would not be sharing with his three brave siblings; King Edmund the Just, Queen Susan the Gentle and Queen Lucy the Valiant.

Peter disappeared into the train carriage and out of sight until he reappeared in a window. He stuck his head out and began to wave as the train slowly pulled out of the station.

"Write me!" Peter called back. Lucy took two hesitant steps after the train, before running full speed to keep up with it.

"I love you!" she called, stopping only when she ran out of platform to run on.

"I love you, too!" Peter yelled back, waving frantically until the train rounded a bend and he was gone.

* * *

**Author's note: **So Peter is off to flight school! Please review and let me know what you think!


	3. Flight School

**Author's note:** I got a good laugh out of writing this chapter. I looked up Keevil Airbase and two things came up: one, it was a RAF airbase during WWII; second, there is a butchering company called Keevil and Keevil and their website is called onlinebutchering! LOL!

So finally, here is chapter 3!

* * *

**Chapter 3 – Flight School**

With bag thrown over his shoulder, Peter alighted from the train. Several other men in uniform filled off the train after him. He glanced around curiously. He was in Trowbridge at last. Peter marched over to the large map of England hanging on the station wall. Tracing the train route, he was able to locate the RAF Keevil Station AAF-471.

RAF Keevil Station AAF-471

"Sir?" a voice addressed him.

"Yes?" Peter answered, turning around to face a short, round man who had a dark moustache and reminded Peter somewhat of a hillbilly Father Christmas.

"Are you looking for the RAF base, son?" the man asked.

"Yes, sir," Peter nodded.

"Well, come on, then," the man commanded. "I have instructions to take you saplings up to the base. Oh, and by the way, my name is Jim."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Peter answered, shaking hands. "I'm Peter Pevensie." The man led him out to a large truck.

"Just climb up in the back with the rest of the boys," Jim instructed. "It's only a short ride to camp." Peter nodded and swung himself up into the back of the truck where six or seven other men stood.

Jim was right; the base was only ten minutes from the train station. Peter watched the green scenery wiz by as they drove past. It was the spring of 1944. When they arrived at the base, the men jumped down from the truck.

"That's the check-in office," pointed Jim. "Head there first and I'll see you around later." Peter and a couple other youngsters headed towards the building. The door opened suddenly as an officer stepped out, tipping his hat to the new recruits, and continued on his way. Peter gathered his courage and stepped through the doorway. He cleared his throat nervously as an officer seated behind a table looked up.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I'm Peter Pevensie, sir," Peter began. "I'm–"

"One of the new recruits?" the officer finished. "Sit down, Pevensie, we've been expecting you."

"Thank you, sir," Peter answered, taking a seat across the desk from the officer.

"I'm Jones," he introduced. "Here in the service, we call each other by our surnames. I'm responsible for the new recruits. Are you ready to join the men in uniform?"

"Yes, sir," Peter replied. "At least, I think so."

"How much experience have you had with an airplane?"

"None, sir."

"Alright, a beginner. Well, we'll teach you quickly," laughed Jones. "For the first month, before you ever fly a plane, you'll be in ground school. We will teach you all the things that you need to know about planes, such as repairing your plane in case of an emergency. When you've mastered that, we will begin flight lessons. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, I'll introduce you to officer Connell. You'll be reporting to him during your first months with us. That is, if you don't drop out."

"I won't drop out," Peter replied.

"We'll see," Jones smiled. "Come on, now. We better get you settled and ready for tomorrow."

* * *

"Meeks?"

"Here."

"Clifton?" The noise of the airplanes almost drowned out the voice of Connell. "Clifton?" he repeated, this time a bit louder.

"Here, sir."

"Pevensie?"

Peter's mouth felt very dry as he answered, "Here, sir." Connell looked up briefly but then continued.

"Galvin?"

"Here."

"Brandon?"

"Here."

"Jamison, are you still here?"

"Here, sir."

"Manly?"

"Here, sir!"

"Well, welcome to ground school, boys!" Officer Connell greeted. "To those of you who are new here, we try to mix you in with some of the more experienced pilots. Jamison, Clifton and Manly are all aces here at Keevil. They will be your flight instructors once you graduate from ground school."

Curiously, Peter looked at the men whom Connell pointed out. Jamison was a short man with dark eyes but a friendly face. He was known for cracking jokes. In contrast to Jamison, Clifton was a towering blond. He was very muscular and almost too imposing. Briefly, Peter thought of Miraz. Peter couldn't help but be glad that he didn't have to fight against Clifton. One duel against a man twice your size was good enough for his taste.

Manly definitely lived up to his name. He had close-clipped hair of a dark brown, while his eyes were an icy blue. He had broad shoulders and a deep voice that rang true.

Meeks, Galvin and Brandon were newbies like Peter himself. Meeks had red-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose which he kept pushing back into place every time they slipped down. Galvin was a Jewish lad only a year or so older than Peter. His hard-set jaw was a symbol of his determinedness. Brandon was a spirited red-head, full of life and mischief.

"I'm going to take you around on a tour of the base to start things off," announced Connell. "Jamison, Manly and Clifton, you don't need to come if you have other work to do."

"Yes, sir," the three answered in unison.

Connell led the way towards the first hangar while the four boys tramped behind him, taking in the wonder of the air base.

"This is the repair shop," Connell explained as they entered. "You will be spending much of your time here for the first few weeks."

* * *

When Peter arrived back at his quarters, he fell onto his cot wearisomely. His foot knocked a cardboard box off the end. Inquisitively, Peter picked up the box. It was addressed to him from Finchley!

Eagerly, Peter tore open the box. He knew it contained letters from his family. Peter opened the lid and pulled out three letters. One was from Lucy and the other two were from Susan and Edmund. Sliding his finger under the seal, he carefully opened Lucy's.

_Dear Peter,_ it read.

_I miss you so much. The house is so lonely without you. Sunday morning will be even worse. You won't be there to make pancakes for me. I hope the war ends soon so you and Dad can come home. _

_Edmund isn't taking this change too well. I don't think he has slept much and he won't let anyone into your room. Mum says he will come out of it, but I'm worried for him. Please write to him and make sure he's okay. In his letter, he probably won't act like anything's wrong. But he's hurting._

_Mum's putting on a brave face and I admire her courage. It's awfully hard to be missing your husband and your eldest son. I think she'll be alright, though._

_Susan has cried. She acts fine in the daylight but at night I've heard her crying into her pillow. The responsibility of being the eldest has fallen on her shoulders. She's trying to be strong but I think sometime she is going to break. I'm scared what it might do to her._

Peter remembered bitterly from past experience what it was like to finally break, when everything flew out of control. He had let his family down then. He kept pushing them away. But Aslan had brought them together in the end and they came out stronger because of it.

_I know this probably sounds very depressing to you but we miss you something awful. I hope you will have some news to cheer everyone up with._

_As for me, I remain faithful to Aslan and trust that he is working this for good. Who knows what he might do through us?_

_Love,_

_Lucy_

Ever faithful Lucy. She observed far more things than her siblings ever realized. Peter was grateful for her steadfastness. She had saved them from many downfalls.

Peter opened Edmund's letter next. His heart ached for his little brother. He knew Edmund wanted to be with him; to come with and fight beside him once again. But here, things were different from Narnia.

_Dear Peter, _Edmund's letter began.

_I know it's only been two days, but still, I miss you. It just isn't the same without you. You thought Lucy would take it the hardest, but actually I think she is taking it the best. Susan and Lucy have jumped in with the girls at school to do all they can to help the war effort. Already, Susan is back to being Susan the Gentle, Queen of Gatherings. All the girls from her class and Lucy's came over last night for a meeting (I hid in our room). They're supposed to come back next week and begin knitting socks. Yuck. But if it will keep soldiers' feet warm and finish this war, then I guess it's worth it to put up with twelve girls yak-yaking as they knit._

_Oh, and I can't believe you forgot it! _

Forgot what? Peter wondered.

_You left your Bible sitting on your nightstand! I sent it in the box. _Peter dug into the box and, sure enough, there was his Bible. Many pages were dog-eared and worn but Peter loved it. It had given him so much hope when he had discovered Aslan in this world for himself. He himself was shocked that he could have forgotten it but he was glad that Edmund sent it to him.

_Well, I can't think of any other news to tell you. Not much has happened in so short a time. William sends his greetings. _William was Peter's best friend but a year younger than him and not able to join the military yet, though he wished too.

_Be careful now._

_Your faithful brother,_

_Edmund_

Susan's letter was the last one and the shortest.

_Dear Peter,_

_The girls from my class at school and from Lucy's class have decided to get together weekly to knit socks for wounded soldiers. It was Emily's idea really, but we all agreed to pitch in. I don't think Edmund likes having twelve girls over and he hid in his room. Next time I think he is going to go visit Andrew. Since Edmund had to send a box with your Bible, I decided to send you a picture. You know, the one that sits on my desk. I thought you'd probably like to have a picture of us while you're gone._

_Take care,_

_Su_

Peter reached into the box and found the picture Susan was talking about. It was in a brown, wooden frame. The black and white photo had been taken shortly after their second trip to Narnia. Susan kept it on her desk but now Peter would have it. He slowly traced the familiar faces of his siblings, longing to be with them.

"Is that your family?" asked Galvin, peering over Peter' shoulder. Peter jumped in surprise. "I didn't mean to startle you," Galvin quickly apologized.

"It's alright," Peter answered. "Yes, this is my brother, Edmund, and my sisters, Susan and Lucy."

"You're the eldest?" Galvin asked.

"Yes," Peter replied. "They mean the world to me – more than the world, really."

"I have a younger sister, too," Galvin acknowledged. "I know what it's like."

"I wouldn't change a thing," sighed Peter wistfully. "Even if I could. It's perfectly imperfect; so crazy, but it's worth it. No, I wouldn't change a thing."

* * *

**Author's note:** So, that was chapter 3. A little less despresing. My sister is convinced this is a tragic story but it won't be. They're just getting used to the idea of Peter leaving and the dangers of war which they know very well from experience. I don't know when Chapter 4 will be up. I have a little written but I have busy weekend with my cousin's wedding shower to attend and then a busy week of school. To those of you who aren't in High School yet, just wait until you are taking algebra, driver's ed and a college-level biology class! So don't worry, Chapter 4 will be up...eventually.

HUGE thanks to all who reviewed! :)


	4. It's Later

**Author's note:** So Chapter 4 is finally done. It's taken me a while to write since I had run out of inspiration and I was swamped with school this past week. I haven't written all week until today. But the chapter is finally here! This chapter is mostly about Edmund. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 4 – It's Later**

Sunday morning dawned bright and early. As Lucy climbed out of bed, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Part of it was because Peter was gone; the other half was because of a fetid odor rising up the stairs from the kitchen. Lucy plugged her nose and quickly tramped down the stairs. Yes, the smell was definitely coming from the kitchen. As Lucy entered, she noticed Susan by the stove, working frantically, and Edmund asleep with his head on the table.

"What happened?" Lucy asked. Her voice sounded strange because of her plugged nose.

"Hey, Lu," Susan sighed. "Edmund decided to make pancakes for us but he isn't an early riser and fell asleep, leaving the pancakes on the stove burning. I've been trying to make them for him so he can get some sleep." Lucy smiled.

"Poor Ed," she sympathized. "He's trying to fill in for Peter."

"I think he should leave the pancakes for me to handle," Susan smiled. "At least you have something interesting to tell Peter about! He'll laugh!"

"You're right," Lucy agreed. Susan turned away from the stove for a moment to look at Lucy and Edmund.

"I don't think I can salvage the first couple batches of pancakes," she sighed. "How does oatmeal sound?"

"Okay, I guess," agreed Lucy. "Sounds better than burnt pancakes."

"Poor Edmund." Susan shook her head and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. "He's not much of a cook."

"Agreed!" laughed Lucy.

"Not what?" Edmund mumbled sleepily. Suddenly, he shot straight up. "Oh, no!" he moaned. "I forgot about the pancakes and fell asleep, didn't I?"

"Yes," Lucy answered. "Susan took care of them though."

"Thanks, Su," Edmund thanked.

"Welcome," Susan responded as she began getting out bowls. "It's always good to have a Plan B."

"Oatmeal?" guessed Edmund, yawning and stretching.

"Yep," Lucy answered, getting up and starting to set the table.

"Sorry I ruined breakfast," apologized Edmund.

"It's okay," Lucy replied. "I'll set the table, you go start getting ready."

"Alright," Edmund agreed, getting up from the table. He thumped loudly up the stairs and disappeared into his room just as Mrs. Pevensie entered the kitchen.

"Whew! Susan!" Mrs. Pevensie was holding her nose. "What are you cooking?"

"Sorry, Mum," Susan explained and told Mrs. Pevensie about Edmund's pancake disaster.

"He was trying to do something nice," Lucy spoke up.

"Yes, I see that, dear," answered Mrs. Pevensie. "It's a pity that he fell asleep." Lucy face became a little troubled but she didn't say anymore. She knew Edmund hadn't been sleeping well.

"Breakfast is ready," Susan announced cheerily, covering up the fact that she too knew about Edmund. Edmund thundered down the stairs and leaped into his seat. He suspiciously eyed the bowl of oatmeal in front of him.

"What?" Lucy teased. "Do you think it's poisoned, dear Ed?" He smiled and dug in.

* * *

Edmund sat glaring at the clock ticking on the wall. _6:48._ Another minute passed slowly. _6:49._ Edmund sighed dejectedly and stared at the cold piece of chicken still sitting on his plate. He wasn't hungry and he didn't want to eat; he didn't think he _could_ eat. He sighed again.

Lucy and Mum had gone to visit Aunt Alberta, Uncle Harold and Eustace for the next two days, leaving Susan and Edmund home. Edmund would have liked to see Eustace but he didn't have the heart to go. Susan had remained to look after him. Besides, she didn't have much of a connection with Aunt Albert or Eustace. The only thing she could talk to Eustace about was Narnia. And lately, she had begun to mention it less and less. Every memory seemed to have Peter in it and it hurt her to know he was gone.

The steady rain dripped down the window panes in monotonous waves. Edmund didn't care. With Peter gone, the pleasure of life seemed to have left him. Everything seemed dull and bland. Even church had lost its usual appeal.

Edmund gave up on his chicken and wandered into the living room, looking for something to do – not that he expected to find anything. Susan had been gone all afternoon and wouldn't be back until later.

Edmund paced to the door and stared out into the bleakness. He wondered if it was raining on Peter. The telephone in the kitchen began to ring. It slowly pulled Edmund out of his wanderings and back to England. He returned to the kitchen and picked up the phone after its third or fourth ring – he couldn't remember which.

"Pevensies." Edmund's voice sounded dry and strange to him.

"Edmund?" came the voice on the other side. Edmund's heart leapt for joy. Could it really be?

"Peter!" Edmund exclaimed joyously.

"Ed!" Peter answered. A smile spread across Edmund's previously dejected face.

"How are you?" asked Edmund.

"Jolly well enough," Peter answered. "A bit wet, but that's all. How are you?" Edmund fell silent. Should he tell Peter what he was struggling with? He didn't want to burden him any. Edmund knew how much Peter worried about him and the girls already.

"Edmund?" Peter repeated. "Are you okay?" Weariness won over pride.

"I-I'm not alright." Edmund's voice quivered.

"Edmund, what's wrong?"

Edmund found himself longing for Peter's arms. He wanted Peter to comfort him; to stroke his hair; to give him a hug.

On the other end, Peter was wishing he could be there for Edmund. He had known that his decision to join the air force would hurt his little brother. But he hadn't realized just how completely it would crush Edmund.

Edmund was ready to beg Peter to come home but he remembered Aslan's words.

"_What's done is done."_

"Peter," Edmund blubbered. He closed his eyes tightly against the tears threatening to fall. He hated to cry; especially in front of Peter. "I don't think I can make it."

"Of course you can't make it," Peter cajoled, his words startling poor Edmund. "You can never make it alone. But that's what faith is for. Have faith, little brother, and Aslan will help you through. It might seem like he's given you more than you can handle, but if you trust him and ask him for help, he'll get you through."

"Thanks, Pete," Edmund choked out.

"I always have believed that you were the strongest of us," Peter remarked. "And I still do, Ed. As long as you trust, I don't think you will break. He won't let you go."

"Peter," Edmund replied. "It's later."

"What do you mean?"

"I said we'd talk later," reminded Edmund. "Remember? You were in the middle of your death speech again, and I told you to save it for later? We never did get a chance to speak of it… And now it's later."

"So it is," Peter gravely agreed. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Yes," Edmund answered determinedly. "You will be heading to war shortly. It only takes one bullet, you know." Peter understood what he was implicating.

"Alright, Ed," he agreed reluctantly. "I really didn't want to have to give you my 'if I die today' speech." Peter began to recall what he had tried to tell Edmund the day of the duel with Miraz. Peter spoke again. "I had really just wanted to apologize to you. I had acted so beastly and been so arrogant and proud. Pride does come before a fall. I know that from experience now. And I don't think I will ever do it again, mind you."

"Peter, it's alright. I forgive-"

"No!" Peter interrupted. "I didn't deserve your forgiveness. I pushed you away. I pushed you, I ignored you, and I _hurt _you_, _Edmund. _I_ let you go. I could have made things right! I wanted to tell you that I love you, that you mean the world to me; I could have fixed it. But I still pushed you away. I left you alone to struggle with both of our responsibilities."

Edmund could hear Peter's voice escalating. His older brother was still blaming himself.

"Edmund, we both lost our home, we were both upset and dealing with hard times, but I did _nothing_ – _absolutely nothing_ to help you. If anything, I made it worse. You tried to help me, but I – I just pushed you away. And I finally realized that I was going to lose you. Whether I died in the duel or not, I was going to lose you. You were slipping away from me."

"Peter-" Edmund tried again.

"Edmund, please," Peter begged. "Let me finish. I would have died to know that you still even cared about me – if you could after all I had done. You've always been there for me and I thought you always would. I never dreamed I could lose you; that I could push you so far away. It was my fault, Edmund, and I take the blame. I thought I had lost you a second time." Peter paused but Edmund was confused.

"A second time?" he wondered. "When was the first?"

"When the Witch stabbed you," Peter answered. "That was my fault too. I hadn't looked after you-"

"No," Edmund interrupted. "No, that was entirely my fault. I was wrong. _I_ was pushing _you_ away, that time. We do not need to speak of what is passed." Edmund was right, Peter realized. It was under Aslan control the whole time and they had come out stronger because of it.

"Peter," Edmund reminded. "You're not going to lose me; not now, not ever. There is nothing you could say or anyway you could do that would make me stop loving you. Hang it all, Pete, you're my brother after all."

"Ed, I'm so glad you are always there," Peter answered, with a teary voice. "But I promise I will never push you away like that again. It nearly destroyed us the first time, I won't risk it again."

* * *

Edmund sighed contentedly. He and Peter both had lighter hearts after their discussion. Peter told him about life on the base and about his friends. At first, Edmund felt the familiar pang of jealousy, but it quickly faded. He was too tired to be angry anymore.

Peter said there was something peculiar about the one captain, Jones. Once something about Peter being magnificent had slipped out before Jones could check himself. But Peter had heard it and wondered. Now Edmund was pondering the strangeness. It could have been just a coincidence, but why would Jones hide it?

Edmund glanced outside as headlight flashed on the wet windows. Susan was home. Not terribly late, but late enough to make him worry. He yawned as the backdoor opened. Susan stepped in and began taking off her wet shoes and coat. The rain outside seemed to come in torrents of heavy water. Susan stood up and took off her fashionable hat.

Edmund stared at her.

"What?" Susan asked. Edmund continued to gape at her neat bob. Her silky, dark locks were cut off!

"Y-your hair!" Edmund stuttered. "W-what did you do?"

"I got it cut," Susan answered, matter-of-factly.

"I see that," Edmund retorted. "Why did you cut it?"

"Because I got a job," Susan replied.

"A job? Where? Doing what?" demanded Edmund.

"Where? At Hawker Aircraft," Susan answered smoothly. "Doing what? Riveting airplanes."

"But what about nursing school?" protested Edmund. "Besides, I'm the man of the family; I should be providing things not you. Not the other way around!"

"Ed," soothed Susan. "It's not for money. Yes, I get paid, but that's not why I'm doing it. There's a war going on and it's time we did our part. This is a way I can help. I work the first shift at Hawker's from six till three and then attend night school from three thirty till eight."

"Then if you are doing your part, I might as well too," Edmund declared. "I'll drop out of school and work until I'm old enough to fight."

"Edmund, no," Susan commanded. "Peter wouldn't want you to." She briefly touched the locked hanging around her neck, picturing Peter's picture and their father's inside. "He'd want you to finish your education. He knows you want to go to law school."

"Yes," Edmund agreed. "But if doing this means we get the war finished sooner and Peter could come home sooner, I'd much rather skip school."

"Edmund," Susan reminded gently. "You're not talking me out of this. You can't drop out of school."

"Fine," Edmund sighed.

"Now up to bed," Susan scolded. "You should have been upstairs a long time ago."

"You shouldn't have been tardy," Edmund retorted. Susan gave him a hard look and Edmund felt reproachful of his hard words. "Sorry, Su," he muttered. "I was just worried about you. That's all."

Susan began to get busy cleaning up Edmund's half-eaten dinner. "Did anyone call while I was out?"

"Well, yes," Edmund replied. "Peter called." Susan whirled around.

"Peter called?" she gaped.

"Yes," Edmund answered. "About forty minutes ago or so." Susan muttered something and turned back around.

"Su?" Edmund asked, getting up and going to stand beside her. He put his hand on her shoulder. He was taller than her now, and she had to look slightly up at him. "Peter said to tell you hello and that he loved you." Susan nodded, her eyelashes thick with tears. Instinctively, Edmund put his arms around her and gave her a hug. "And I love you too, Susan." He held on to her for several minutes before she pulled away. Edmund was still getting over the shock of her chopped off hair.

"To bed now," she commanded, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.

"As you wish, milady," Edmund teased.

* * *

**Author's note: **There, I hope you liked it! Please review. :)

P.S. Was Susan's hair-cutting unexpected? I may back up a bit and tell Susan's side of the story in the next chapter, or the one after that, cause we need to check back in with Peter.


	5. Sham Mission

**Author's note: **Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long. But most of you know that school is finishing up and we have lots of finals. Things have been pretty busy and will be for the next week or so. This summer I should be able to write more. Yay! But here is Chapter 5. We're back to Peter and he finally gets into some action towards the end. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Sham Mission**

_Two weeks later – Mid November_

_Dear Peter,_

_Thanks for talking with me the other day. I really needed it. I'm so glad that Aslan gave you to me as a brother. Once I despised you, but now, it feels wrong without you. You're so much a part of me._

_Your brother forever,_

_Edmund_

Peter's hand was curled around the letter folded in his pocket. It was short and to the point, which was the manner in which Edmund usually wrote. Peter was grateful for the time he had been able to spend talking with Edmund. He knew it was important to his little brother.

Peter took a deep breath of the fresh Sunday air as he strolled along the path towards the small village. Villagers were calling greetings to one another as they left their houses for church. They flocked down the cobblestone streets, their laughter mingling with the smells of fresh bread that wafted out of open windows.

It was the ringing bells that first drew him. The smell of lilies filled the air as the bell continued to toll, calling people into the church. With his Bible tucked under one arm, Peter joined the steady group that was streaming in. After Peter had entered, he looked for a place to sit inside the small church.

"Pevensie!" A voice called. Peter whipped around to see who it was. He recognized the man hurrying towards him as Clifton, one of the senior pilots.

"Glad to see you are a church-going man," Clifton greeted him. "Not many of the boys are. They care more 'bout their girls at home."

"I see," Peter answered. "I'm glad to know someone here."

"You can sit with me if you like," Clifton offered.

"Thank you," Peter smiled. "I'd like that." As Peter and Clifton took their seats, another RAF officer joined them.

"Clifton, Pevensie," Jones nodded as he sat down.

"Mornin'," Clifton responded. Jones reached into his shirt pocket.

"This letter came for you, Pevensie," he explained. "It arrived yesterday, but I didn't have time to give it to you." Jones handed the cream envelope to Peter.

"Thank you, sir," Peter answered as he took it. It was from Lucy. He glanced around. The service wouldn't be starting for a few minutes so Peter decided to read her letter. He opened it quickly and unfolded it.

_Hello Peter!_

_How are you? We are fine, Edmund included. He's much better after you spoke with him. Susan is still at nursing school. But she has gotten a job riveting at an aircraft plant, too. Edmund didn't want her to but she says she's just doing her part for the war effort. And she's willing to work if it will help you come home sooner. She also cut her hair! It's in the cutest bob. I wish my hair was like that, but Mum won't let me cut mine. Ed says he likes it long anyway. _

_Have you gotten to fly solo yet? You've been away almost two months now. I hope the war will end before Christmas so you and Dad can be home. You said they'd probably deploy you after three months. Is that still true? I hope not. But it's all in Aslan's plan. He is doing something through this._

The sound of shuffling feet and creaking benches tore Peter away from his sister's letter as the congregation stood up to sing a hymn. Peter quickly folded the letter and put it in his pocket with Edmund's.

* * *

Peter returned to Lucy's letter as soon as he was able. But that was after church, lunch and a few other things. He scanned it, trying to find his place again.

_Mum is planting a victory garden and I am helping! It's a little tedious, but I enjoy it more than knitting socks. Yuck. Our sock knitting club gave up a few weeks ago. Susan was a little bummed but she's too busy to care now. _

_We got a letter from Dad the other day! He says he is doing well. He's working at a hospital somewhere on the boarder of Germany. That's all he was allowed to say. He said he loves and misses all of us. Edmund wrote him back telling him about how you enlisted in the RAF. Edmund is very proud of you. Just like the rest of us. Mum, Edmund and Susan send their love._

_Love,_

_Lucy the Valiant_

Peter smiled as he finished Lucy's letter. They hadn't heard from Dad in quite a while so this was exciting news.

"Any news from home?" Galvin asked as he polished his boots.

"My Dad is on the boarder of Germany," Peter answered. "We're pushing the Nazis back." A few cheers erupted. All of the youngsters wanted to be home. They understood now that war isn't fun and games.

"What about the rest of your family?" Meeks asked. "And your sister?"

"Which one?" Peter asked.

"I only knew one," Meeks answered. "Said her name was Phyllis. But whenever I saw her with you, you called her Susan."

Peter smiled. "I didn't realize you were that guy," he laughed.

"Yep," Meeks nodded, which caused his glass to slide down. "Warren Meeks from Wembley, England." Peter stuck out his hand and Meeks shook it.

"I'm Peter Pevensie."

"Glad to meet you."

"Same," Peter answered.

"So how is Phyl- I mean, Susan?" Meeks asked.

"Fine, I think," Peter answered. "She in nursing school and working at an aircraft plant."

"Interesting," Meeks remarked. "Do you have any other siblings?"

"There's my brother Edmund," Peter replied. "And my youngest sister Lucy."

"I bet they miss you," Galvin spoke up. Peter smiled wistfully.

"I bet they do, too," he answered. He took from his pocket the photograph Susan had sent him. He showed it to Meeks and Galvin. "And I miss them just as much."

* * *

_Dear Phyllis,_

_Your brother tells me your real name is Susan, but I have always known you as Phyllis and I hope you don't mind me calling you that. I met your brother, Peter, here at the airbase. _

Meeks paused, unsure what to write next. He could tell her about training or flying but that would probably bore her. He decided to write about Peter.

_I will write about Pevensie because he will probably not tell you how well he is doing. He's the best at almost everything. Connell has made him the captain of our group. It seems right for him. He's still working on his aim with a machine gun but he's an excellent pilot. He jests a lot and keeps us smiling on even the most tedious training mission. I think you should be very proud of him. Even if he does not tell you of his achievements. _

_Next week we are going to perform a sham mission and fly across the channel. Pevensie will lead us and we have to find the "German base" and destroy it. We'll spend several days in France before returning for graduation. After graduation, we are shipped to the Belgian border. That's when it really begins. Don't worry about your brother. I'm sure he could outmaneuver any German plane._

Meeks was ready to end his letter but he wasn't sure how to sign his name. He finally settled on just his name.

_Warren Meeks _

With his letter finished and Sunday evening drawing to a close, Meeks crossed the room to Peter's cot. Pevensie was sprawled across the bed, reading his Bible. Meeks cleared his throat. Peter looked up.

"Could-" Meeks started. "Do you – I mean, could you, um, send this letter to your sister for me?" Peter looked a little surprised. "Y-you can read it first, if you like," Meeks added. Peter shook his head.

"No," he answered. "I'll trust that you wouldn't write anything unwholesome. I'll send it to her." Meeks smiled.

"Thank you."

* * *

_One week later…_

"Almost ready?" Galvin yelled to Peter over the roar of the engines.

"Ready!" Peter answered, climbing down into the pilot's seat. Galvin jumped down from the wing and waved as Peter strapped himself in. Last minute safety checks were made before the plane was steered out towards the runway. Propeller blades spun, engines roared to life, and hatches were closed. Peter was kept occupied checking gauges and steering. The plane – a spitfire – began to pick up speed as it raced towards the edge of the runway. The wheels slowly left the ground and the plane shot into the blue sky. Four other planes took off after Peter and the company of five steered towards the English Channel and France beyond.

Many hours later, the choppy water began to thin as the coast of France approached. The humming of the spitfires drowned out other sounds. The company of five planes neared the airbase which they would be momentarily stopping at to refuel. The first plane began to slow as the wheels touched the runway. The others followed quickly behind and taxied off to the side where their pilots stopped them and jumped out.

"Crazy weather over the channel, hu?" remarked Galvin, taking off his helmet as he fell into step beside Peter. Peter nodded in agreement. This was his first trip out of England and now he was standing on French soil. The French flag and the British flag proudly flew in the air over one of the hangars of the airbase.

After a short respite and refueling, the group climbed back into their cockpits and taxied toward the runway and the sky. About twenty minutes into the destroyed countryside, the sham base was spotted.

"Straight ahead." Jones's voice came through the radio to Peter. They spiraled towards it as gunshots rang out from the base.

"Open fire," Jones commanded. Peter began aiming the machine gun towards the targets below. Tat-a-tat-tat sounds filled the air at the rapid fire of the guns. Several bombs were dropped as well and the planes vibrated with the explosions disturbing the airflow. The planes swooped in closer, turning and weaving to avoid being hit by the guns from the base. Gunshots filled the air and everything was turned into a smoking mess.

They circled around a second time and the guns were at it again. Rat-a-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat. Through the smoke, it was hard for Peter to see where he was aiming. He was thankful that this was a training drill and not for real. One of the guns on the base exploded in a tongue of fire. Peter's plane swerved to avoid flying through the fire. Tat-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Another plane swung around him, firing rapidly at the base gunnery.

Maneuvers were continuously repeated and instruction given. Several hours later, the rookie pilots returned to the nearest RAF field after their exhibition. They had successfully destroyed the base. After daily care of the planes was completed, the pilots were free to relax and eat. Peter thankfully sank onto a cot after a simple meal. He folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, a contented smile playing on his lips as he dreamed of his family and Narnia.

* * *

**Author's note: **The last part of this chapter was really hard to write. Also the sound of the machine guns was hard to describe. That's the best words I could come up with for the noise. :) I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter will be about Su, Ed and Lu back on the homefront. And later on in this story, we will hear/see a bit of Mr. Pevensie. Anyone have ideas for an original name for him?

Please review. It really helps to motivate and encourage me. :)


	6. Graduation

**Author's Note 5/28/12:** This chapter is written on Memorial Day in honor of all the brave men and women who have fought in our wars, as well as all the men and women who will serve in the future.

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Graduation**

Susan stared into space with a frown stamped upon her face. She had just read the letter from Warren Meeks. She couldn't believe that he was in the RAF, serving with Peter. When she had last seen him, he was a geeky weirdo. What should she do now? Write him back? That was the politest option. But why would he have written to her in the first place? Maybe Peter mentioned her to him. Or maybe he had seen Peter's treasured photograph. However he found her, she didn't care.

Susan rolled her eyes. She still felt a little annoyed with him. It was almost like he was stalking her! But no, it couldn't be. She hadn't seen him around in many years. Not since Lucy's first year of boarding school. Susan wasn't quite sure how to handle this situation, but she decided replying was the best way to go.

So she got out a pen and a piece of paper and started writing.

_Dear Warren,_ Susan began, then crossed it out. She couldn't call him "dear". She started over.

_Warren, _That was a little better.

_The fake mission sounds interesting. I hope it goes well. Thank you for writing about Peter. You're right. He doesn't like to tell about his achievements. He's afraid it will come across as bragging. But we like to be proud of him and his successes. _

_Graduation is drawing near. I'm not sure which of us will be present to see Peter. Edmund (my brother) will probably go. I will most likely have to stay here because of my job. _

Susan paused. She wondered if Warren would be disappointed if she didn't come. She brushed the thought aside. It was hardly likely that he'd even care. But what if he did? The thought startled Susan. _No_, she laughed. He wouldn't still have his crush after all these years…would he?

_Do you have any family that will be coming to the graduation? I don't know what I would do without my family. Peter is my shield and protection, Lucy is my hope and joy, and Edmund is my comfort and wisdom. They mean more than the world to me. _

_May God bless you._

_- Susan_

After a moment's pause, she added a postscript.

_P.S. Write back. _Then she added, _if you want to._ Satisfied at last, Susan folded the letter and placed in an envelope with her letter for Peter. She had asked if he would give the letter to Warren. Susan took the envelope downstairs to the kitchen to add it to the stack of letters ready to be mailed.

* * *

Edmund's hands felt sweaty and he hastily wiped them on his trousers. Why was he acting like this? Edmund never felt nervous. This was very strange. Edmund glanced out the train window and wished it was moving faster. They had stopped at several small stations along the way, delaying the trip longer. He sighed and resumed staring out the window at the whizzing countryside. Eventually, he dozed off.

When Edmund awoke, the train had arrived at his destination: Trowbridge. Peter was graduating from flight school today. All the Pevensies wished to come, but in the end, only Edmund made the trip. But not without several letters from Lucy and Susan. Edmund stood up, took his bag from the rack and made his way towards the door. Upon alighting, he found an RAF officer waiting for the group of visitors. He smiled when he saw Edmund.

"You must be King E-" he stopped and corrected himself. "I mean, you must be Pevensie's little brother." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Jones."

"Yes," Edmund answered. "I'm Edmund."

"Glad to meet you," Jones answered. "We have to wait for a few more guests to arrive, and then we'll be on our way to the base. I bet you're excited to see your brother." Was he

The ride to the base was bumpy, but otherwise uneventful. Edmund squirmed in his seat. He had hoped to see Peter before the ceremony started but he was out of luck. He glanced at the clock. It would be starting in a minute or so. As the graduates lined up, Edmund scanned their faces, searching for Peter.

_Hey!_ He suddenly thought. _Isn't that the geeky kid who was bothering Susan?_ He didn't look so geeky now, standing proudly in his blue RAF uniform. Then suddenly, Edmund's attention was directed towards a young man with blond hair, standing erect and proud. _Peter!_ Edmund's mind rejoiced. A smile spread across his face, big enough to stretch from Cair Paravel to Aslan's Country. Peter glanced over and they locked eyes for a moment; Peter's grin was just as wide as Edmund's. As Connell began to speak, the brothers continued to glow.

Peter hadn't known which members of his family would be present, but he was glad that Edmund had come. He had secretly been hoping for Edmund all along. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his sisters and mother; he wanted Edmund's support. Peter knew his little brother was proud of him and would fight by his side once again, some day.

Edmund had never felt more proud of his brother. He was filled with admiration as he watched Peter; tall, handsome, noble and brave. Peter was the very picture of Magnificent. As soon as the ceremony was over, Edmund rushed over the Peter.

"Ed!" Peter exclaimed as the two brothers met. They shook hands first, but then decided they didn't care who was watching and hugged each other. Peter slung his arm across Edmund's shoulder. "Welcome to Keevil, Ed."

"Thanks," Edmund answered. "Susan, Lucy and Mum wanted to come but they couldn't get away. Susan had to work, Mum had something with the Ladies Society – I think a fundraiser of something. Luce really wanted to come, but Mum needed her help. But they all send their love."

"Thanks, Ed," Peter answered. "I'm so glad you could come. I was secretly hoping you could." Edmund smiled.

"And I was hoping I would get to come," he answered.

"Come on!" Peter exclaimed. "You have to meet everyone."

"I met Jones," Edmund replied.

"Alright," Peter mused. "Ed?"

"Yes?" Edmund answered.

"Did Jones say anything funny to you?"

"What do you mean?" Edmund questioned.

"Did he say anything Narnian sounding?" Peter asked.

"Well…" Edmund hesitated. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "I think he did! I think he called me King Ed, and then changed his mind. That's certainly strange."

"Indeed," Peter answered, deep in thought. "He does that when he talks to me sometimes. Why, just the other day I was pretty sure he said, 'your majesty'! I was beginning to think I was imagining it, but if you say you heard him say king, then I'm ready to believe you."

"Tis strange, though," Edmund replied. "I wonder what it means."

"Never mind it now," Peter said. "You have to meet my friends."

"Peter?"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember that geeky kid from the train station who was following Susan?" Edmund asked. Peter chuckled.

"You mean Warren?"

"You know him?"

"Yes," Peter replied with a laugh. "Come on. I'll introduce you. I'm sure he'll want to meet you after all the stories I've told about you." Edmund followed as Peter led him through the maze of buildings.

"Warren!" Peter called as he knocked on a door.

"Come on in!" Warren called back. Peter smiled at Edmund and opened the door for him. Edmund stepped into the barracks. Several sets of bunk beds lined the walls.

"Is this where you live?" Edmund asked.

"Yep," Peter answered. "That's my bunk." He pointed to one. He led the way farther back to where Warren sat talking with his parents and one other RAF recruit. They all stood up when they saw Peter and Edmund. Peter took charge.

"Warren, Galvin," he addressed the two in RAF uniforms. "This is my brother, Edmund."

"Nice to meet you, Edmund," Galvin answered, shaking hands.

"We've heard a lot about you," Warren commented. Edmund smiled.

"That would be my big brother," he remarked. "He's always telling stories about how amazing I am."

"Ed!" Peter laughed, whacking him lightly on the head.

"Ow!" Edmund protested but he was smiling.

"Peter," Warren said. "These are my parents, Alfred and Kathleen Meeks."

"Please to meet you," Peter replied, extending his hand to Mr. Meeks.

"My son speaks very highly of you, Mr. Pevensie," Mr. Meeks answered. Peter smiled shyly, embarrassed at the high praise. Edmund beamed.

"Thank you, sir," Peter replied at last. After a few more moments of conversation, Peter took Edmund outside and showed him the whole base. He showed him the planes, the artillery, the mess hall and many other places. To Edmund, the whole day was wonderful. He loved being at Peter's side again.

But at long last, it was time for Edmund to return to Finchley. The two brothers waited at the train station for Edmund's train to arrive.

"Thanks for coming, Ed," Peter said.

"I'm glad I came," Edmund responded. "But now I don't want to leave." Peter smiled.

"I don't want you to leave either," he admitted. "But I'll see you again, promise." Edmund's face became serious.

"Please try to be careful," he begged. "This world isn't like Narnia. We don't have healing cordials."

"I'll be careful, Eddie," Peter answered, tousling Edmund's hair. Usually, Edmund would have protested against Peter calling him Eddie. But today, he didn't care. As the train pulled in, Edmund hugged his big brother tightly. And when it departed, Peter was left alone on the cold, empty platform.

* * *

**Author's note: **Another Peter & Edmund chapter. As you can tell, I like writing about them. I found it slightly ironic that I was writing about Peter's graduation when this weekend was the weekend for graduation parties. Thankfully, we only had one to attend this year. :) I hope you liked it!


	7. Slamming Doors

**Author's note: **Hey Everyone! I'm still alive! Woohoo! My finger is healed, camps are done, 4-H Fair is over. And now school starts again. I have had the WORST case of writer's block EVER! And I leave on a missions trip for Honduras in a couple weeks. I will try to have another chapter ready to update before I leave. Chapter 8 is almost finished thankfully. But here is chapter 7; in which faith is questioned, doors are slammed and the Pevensies receive a surprise visitor. May I present, Airplanes in the Night Sky: Chapter 7 – Slamming Doors.

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Slamming Doors**

"Susan, you're an educated young lady. What do you think happens when you die?"

Susan froze. She hadn't been expecting that question – especially directed at her. Susan was sitting around a table at a friend's house during her party. Hailey's new beau, Victor, was studying science at Oxford. He had been asking and discussing several topics with the gathered group. Lately, the topic of evolution had come up.

"Go on, Susie," Hailey encouraged. Susan throat felt dry. What did she believe? Did people just die and return to dust as the evolutionists suggested. Or was there more to it? Was there something else?

"What if we don't just die?" Susan finally said. Several people rolled their eyes. One person laughed.

"You don't actually believe that Bible nonsense about heaven, do you?" Victor asked in disbelieve.

"Wouldn't you like to believe that you might see loved ones again?" Susan questioned.

Victor laughed again. "I can't believe it. Of all people, I wouldn't expect that logical Susan Pevensie would believe those tales." Susan stood up, quite red in the face.

"I'd like you to give me one good reason why not to!" she challenged.

"Alright," Victor agreed, rising to his feet as well. His eyes were dangerous. "I'll give you five."

"Susan, Victor, please," Hailey begged. They took no notice.

* * *

Lucy skipped cheerfully into the kitchen. She snatched the mail off the counter and plopped down at the table. She flipped through the envelopes. Three for Susan this afternoon. Lucy paused. Susan had been receiving more and more invitations to parties since she returned from America.

Lucy set aside the invitations for Susan and reached for the next letter. It was from Peter. Lucy eagerly opened the letter. She had been hoping that she could have gone with Edmund to see Peter graduate. But she was glad that Edmund and Peter had a good time together.

_Hello Everyone! _Peter's letter began.

_I hope you all are well. This will be my last letter for a bit as we are shipping out tomorrow. This isn't training anymore. But don't worry too much about me. Edmund, thank you so much for coming out. It was such an encouragement to have you there. _

_As I was reading my Bible the other day, I came across this verse. It's Nehemiah 4:14, which says, '__After I looked things over, I stood up and said to the nobles, the officials and the rest of the people, "Don't be afraid of them. Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your families, your sons and your daughters, your wives and your homes." It reminded me of the reason I am here. I'm fighting for the Lord, for my family and for my country so that other generations can grow up free from this terror we know as Adolf Hitler._

_Through these months, I have read my Bible more and more, and grown closer to Him. _

Lucy closed her eyes against the tears threatening to fall. "Aslan," she whispered softly. "Keep him safe. Protect my dear, big brother. We love him so much." Blinking to stop the tears, Lucy returned to the letter clutched in her hands.

_Here are a few verses I picked out for each of you. _

_For Lucy: Isaiah 41:10 – __So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand._

_For Susan: Proverbs 3:5-6 – Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will make straight your paths._

_For Edmund:__Joshua 1:9 – Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the __Lord__ your God will be with you wherever you go."_

_Finally, Romans 12:12, Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. I love you so much. Keep following in His footprints – or should I say pawprints?_

_With love,_

_Peter_

Lucy closed the letter with a sigh.

"What is it, Lu?" Edmund asked as he entered the kitchen.

"A wonder letter from Peter," Lucy responded. "I hated to finish it." She handed it to her brother. She studied Edmund's face as he read through the letter.

"It sounds just like Peter," Edmund said wistfully. "He's always so sure and strong."

"Aye," Lucy agreed quietly. "I miss him, Ed."

"We all do, Lu," Edmund replied. The tender moment was interrupted by the backdoor swinging open.

"Hello there!" Lucy called.

"Hello, dear!"

"Mum!" exclaimed Edmund in surprise. Mrs. Pevensie entered the kitchen and smiled at her youngest two.

"Edmund, Lucy, how are- Eww!" she cut herself off and held her nose. "Edmund, please take that trash out. I don't know what is in there, but whatever it is stinks!"

"Sorry, Mum," Edmund apologized. "I was on my way to take it out but stopped because we received a letter from Peter."

"What did he say?" Mrs. Pevensie asked.

Lucy quickly spoke up while Edmund busied himself with the garbage. "Peter wrote a letter to Edmund, Susan and I. But he also wrote a letter to you, Mum."

"Such a good lad," Mrs. Pevensie murmured quietly. Lucy handed it to her.

_Dear Mum,_

_Thank you so much for sending Edmund out to visit. We had a wonderful time. Edmund tells me that you and the girls are doing well. I miss your chicken pot pies and green beans. _

_I sent a letter to Dad the other in day in hopes that I may find my way to him. But a battle field is such a large place, so the chances are slim. _

_I won't bother to tell you how I am doing for I am sure Edmund can tell you better than I can myself!_

_Mum, thank you for being there and raising me up to be a noble young man. I came across this verse and thought of you. Proverbs 31: 28: Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her._

_I love you, Mum._

_Your son,_

_Peter_

Mrs. Pevensie had tears in the corners of her eyes when she finished Peter's letter. "My dear boy is all grown up," she said. "He's so brave."

"That he is, Mum," Edmund agreed.

There came a solid knock on the front door.

"Who could that be on a day like this?" Mrs. Pevensie questioned as she glanced at the harsh, grey sky that was unleashing torrents of rain.

"I'll get it," Lucy volunteered. She ran to open the door. "Eustace!" she exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello Lucy," Eustace replied. "Hello Edmund," he added as Edmund appeared in the doorway. "We were on our way to Bristol this evening but our train was delayed. It can't leave until tomorrow morning. So Harold and Alberta went to find a hotel and I came to see you!"

"Oh, wonderful, Eustace!" Lucy laughed. "We haven't seen you in a long while. Do come in, won't you?" Eustace stepped into the house and carefully removed his muddy shoes. Lucy closed the door after making a face at the gray rain. Edmund let them into the living room.

"Good evening, Eustace," Mrs. Pevensie greeted. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you, ma'am," Eustace replied politely.

"Would you care for some tea?" asked Lucy, who was playing the hostess.

"Oh, yes, please," Eustace nodded.

The backdoor slammed angrily again.

"My goodness!" Mrs. Pevensie exclaimed. "Susan! Is that you?"

"Yes, Mum," Susan called. Susan entered the living room and hurried towards the stairs. She hadn't bothered to even remove her coat. Her face was slightly splotchy.

"Susan!" Lucy exclaimed. "Eustace is here-" But Susan didn't even notice him. She dashed up the stairs to her room and slammed the door.

"Leave her be, Lu," Edmund advised. "Something has her in a flurry."

"Oh Edmund, will you see what is wrong?"

"I'll try my best, Lu," he replied. "But we better give her a bit to calm down."

* * *

**Author's note: **Thanks to all my faithful readers and reviewers! If anyone had any ideas for future chapters, please PM me! I'd love to take them into consideration. And don't forget about Jones – we still don't know how he knows Peter and Edmund are kings. Plus... Peter is now headed for the frontlines. What will happen? Have fun brainstorming!

Under His Banner,

narniagirl11


	8. Revealed Identity

**Author's note: **Hey Everyone! Here's another chapter. I've been on a roll lately. I guess school really gets the plot bunnies flying. Well, by the title of this chapter, I think you know who it is about. You have been waiting for so long to discover who Jones really is. And there is a little Warren/Susan. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Revealed Identity**

Warren sat on the edge of his bunk starring at a blank sheet of paper. Should he, or should he not? He couldn't make up his mind. Finally, his pen touched the paper. If he didn't like it, he could always throw it away in the end.

_Dear Susan,_

_I suppose I shall call you Susan now instead of Phyllis. We ship out on Friday. Only three days from now. This is the last opportunity I have to write before we leave. After that, letters shall be fairly scarce. I don't know what may happen to me over there but I wanted to tell you this. I know I haven't known you very long but I wish I could have known you better. Do you think that, when I return, maybe we could get together? I don't know; maybe go out for dessert with your family? I'd like to meet you again. Please write back. Your letters have come to be very special to me._

_Your friend,_

_Warren_

Warren quickly folded the letter and placed it in the envelope. He sealed it before he could change his mind and wrote out Susan's address.

* * *

"Excuse me." Peter knocked on the door.

"Pevensie?" Jones looked surprised. "Why the serious face, lad? This doesn't have anything to do with you being shipped out on Friday, does it?"

"No, sir," Peter answered. "It's just – could I talk to you for a moment?"

"Certainly," Jones agreed. Peter stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Ah! I'm forgetting my manners," Jones said. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," Peter responded, taking a seat. He cleared his throat. "Jones, do you – have you ever heard of a place called Narnia?"

The world seemed to freeze for Jones and momentarily he forgot the young man sitting before him. _Narnia._ He hadn't heard of that world for many years. There was no doubt about it now. This lad truly was King Peter of the stories.

Peter watched Jones's face closely. There was a story here. A story filled with many forgotten and painful memories.

"Aye, I've heard of Narnia, your majesty," Jones replied. Peter listened with interest. Jones continued, "I am Prince Joneras*, the fourth son of Ram the Great of Archenland."

*pronounced _Jone eras_

"Ram the Great?" Peter asked. "I've never heard of him."

"He is the son of King Cor and Queen Aravis," Joneras answered.

"Cor and Aravis?" Peter gasped in surprise.

"Did you know them?" Joneras asked.

"Why yes!" Peter exclaimed. "As well as King Lune and Prince Corin. I should have known that Prince Cor would marry Lady Aravis. Tis a bit strange to think of them having a son. You say he is your father?"

"Yes," Joneras agreed. "My mother is the Lady Angoldis of Arnstock." Peter nodded, knowing that Arnstock was in the realm of Archenland.

"There seems to be a very interesting story here," Peter spoke up. "Would you tell it to me?"

"Certainly," Prince Joneras nodded. "And I do not mind if you share it with your royal siblings. I have tried to write most of it down in a journal," he continued, reaching for a worn leather-covered book. "Where should I start?"

"Wherever it makes sense to start," replied Peter.

"Alright then," Joneras agreed. "I shall tell you of my departure from Archenland about eight years ago.

"I was a lad of fourteen when my mother took ill with an unknown disease. My youngest sister was only a child. Father was devastated but the healers didn't know of any cure. One night as I sat out in the garden contemplating this, I saw a shadow slip over the wall.

'Stop!' I cried out and ran towards the figure. It was the hunched-over shape of a hag. 'Who are you that dares to creep into the garden of the King of Archenland?' I challenged foolishly.

'Child,' I heard an old voice cry out. 'Cease your shouting. I've come to help your mother.'

'My mother?" I asked, dropping my guard at once. 'Can you make her better?'

'Yesss, deary,' she answered.

'Where is the cure? I shall take it to her at once,' I exclaimed.

'There's the catch,' she shook her head. 'I don't have it yet. Only the Chosen One can touch the cure.'

'Then help me find the Chosen One!' I cried desperately.

'Child, you are the Chosen One. You must find the cure or your sick mother shall die!' Fool I was to listen to her," Joneras shook his head. "'But I don't know where to find it,' I protested.

'But I know,' the hag whispered. 'Follow me.'

'Wait!' I cried. 'I must tell Father first.'

'No time, no time,' she hissed. 'Your mother's life is hanging on the line.' With a last look at the bright lights of the castle, I turned and followed her into the shadows. She took me down stairs and through tunnels I didn't know existed. At last we emerged in a moonlit courtyard. An ancient stone fountain stood still in the center. We approached it quietly. I peered over the edge into the murky, undisturbed water. I could see the reflection of the hag's face leaning over behind me. The water began to churn and I could see a silver flower in its depths.

'The cure,' I whispered.

'Take it,' the hag urged, a sly smile crossing her face. I noted that smile yet I did not draw my hand back. I reached in but failed to touch it.

'Reach deeper,' she advised. So I reached. The water came up past my elbow yet I couldn't touch the flower. I was standing on my tiptoes. In a swift movement, I felt her cold hands round my throat. I kicked and thrashed about trying to shake her iron grip. Finally in a desperate attempt, I threw myself backwards, pulling her with me. She gave a shriek as I hit the water. The cold grip was loosened as I was pushed under the water. I couldn't breathe. I needed air. I fought against the flattening water. The next thing I knew, I was gasping for air under a gray sky. I was no longer in Archenland, but here. I found myself standing on a cold rainy sidewalk of southern London, alone, lost and only a lad of fourteen."

"You don't know what happened to your mother, do you?" asked Peter.

"I'm afraid not," Prince Joneras admitted.

"I wish I would have read the history books in Miraz's castle while I had the chance," Peter muttered to himself.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing," Peter replied. "Just thinking out loud. Please continue. What happened after that?"

"I was taken to the police station by a man," continued Joneras. "The police tried to put me in an orphanage, but they wouldn't take me. Finally, I ended up at a workhouse." The Prince shuddered. "Those were some of the worst days of my life. I didn't know where I was, and I was so worried about my mother. I knew my father would be upset as well. The whole of Archenland would be in an uproar.

"As the weeks passed and I adjusted to a new life, I made friends with another orphaned boy named Willie. He was two years younger than me. We looked out for each other. Two years passed. Then one day, Willie caught scarlet fever. He was dead by the end of the week. Once again I was alone. I was now seventeen. I escaped from the workhouse and found my way to the enlistment office. I was too young but had nowhere else to go, so I lied about my age. Over the last four years, I have worked my way up through the ranks. I had put my former life behind, until…" He trailed off.

"Until I came," Peter finished.

"Aye," Joneras agreed. "Until you came. I knew all the stories about you and your siblings. When I met you, I knew at once that something was different about you. And your accent! It's very similar to mine. There was only one explanation for it: you were King Peter the Magnificent."

"Aye," Peter agreed. "By Aslan's appointment, I am the High King."

* * *

Peter was sprawled on his bunk, clasping the leather journal of Prince Joneras. He was reading the first page.

_Here follows an account of the birth and life of Prince Joneras of Archenland, fourth son of Ram the Great and Lady Angoldis of Arnstock._

Peter knew there was something different about Jones the minute he had met him. He had tried to fit the pieces together but to no avail. Finally, some light had been spread on the subject. As Peter delved deeper into the story of the missing prince, he found himself remembering Narnia more clearly and vivid than he had in a long time. He could almost feel the breeze on his face. He could hear the sound of the waves as the beat along the shore below Cair Paravel.

In his mind, Peter found himself standing on that beach. As he watched, memories played out before his eyes. He heard Susan and Lucy's laughter as they chased him and Edmund into the ever flowing waves. He could smell the salt and laughed as he watched himself and Edmund rolling through the sand. He heard Lucy's little voice begging him to come play. Then suddenly a shadow swept over the beach and the figures faded away.

As Peter curiously continued walking down the familiar beach, he noticed footprints in the sand. One set belonged to a man, the other belonged to a Lion. Peter wasn't surprised when he noticed Aslan standing beside him.

"Aslan," Peter whispered. "Who's footprints are these?"

"Who's do you think, Son of Adam?" Aslan answered.

"They're mine, aren't they, Aslan?" asked Peter.

"Yes," Aslan replied.

"But Aslan," Peter continued as he followed the tracks farther. "Why are there only one set of tracks here? Weren't you always with me?" The events of his second return to Narnia flashed through Peter's head.

"I was," Aslan responded. "And always shall. These are the times when I have had to carry you, King of Narnia."

"O the mortal man that I am," Peter contemplated. "I dare not take even a breath without your permission lest you cease to cause me to breathe. You were right to question Job. 'Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?' Your almighty power is more than I can fathom." Peter fell to his knees, his head bowed in awe of the mighty Lion beside him.

"Rise up, O Man," Aslan commanded. "Take up your burden and gladly bear it. For I will be with you through all tribulations."

"Peter! Peter!" A voice broke through his vision. Peter opened his eyes to find Warren staring at him blankly. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," Peter replied.

"Clifton wants us out by Hangar 3," Warren announced.

"Thank you," answered Peter. "I'll be right there." Warren dashed out. Peter paused to bow his head. "Thank you for your wisdom and insight, Aslan," he whispered. "You give me strength to carry on."

* * *

**Author's note: **So are you happy? Now you know who Jones really is – Prince Joneras of Archenland. Thanks to all my faithful readers and reviewers! I couldn't do this without you. :D I already mentioned my upcoming trip to Honduras in the last chapter, and I promise to have at least another chapter posted before I leave!

Oh! One more thing. What do you think about Warren and Susan? I'm not really sure where I am going with them yet. Do you have any ideas or preferences? Let me know either by sending me a PM or reviewing this chapter! Hope to hear from you very soon!


	9. A Loyal Brother

**Author's note:** Edmund shows his character in this chapter as he confronts and comforts Susan. This chapter goes back to the end of chapter 7 when Eustace is visiting and Susan comes home, slamming doors, and totally upset about what an evolutionist named Victor told her. Edmund is trying to help and figure out what went on.

I don't know what you believe about the origins of the world, but I believe the biblical account of creation stated in the beginning of Genesis. I believe in a litteral six-day creation and that on the seventh day, God rested. If you have no idea what I am talking about, open a Bible to Genesis 1 and start reading. When you've finished reading the story of creation and the fall of man, go to John 3:16. If you have questions or want to discuss your viewpoint, PM me, please. I'd love to talk to you!

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 9 – A Loyal Brother**

Susan threw herself violently onto her bed. She just didn't understand. _Why?_ She wondered. _Why does this happen to me?_ What if Victor was right? What if there was no reason for man to be alive? What if all he said was true?

Susan certainly didn't believe it was all true. Man couldn't have come from apes. That was even more ridiculous than finding a magical land in a wardrobe. Was there any proof that the Bible was real?

There was a knock on her door. "Su?" came Edmund's voice. "Can I come in?"

"No," Susan replied.

"Please, Su?" Edmund begged.

"Fine," Susan sighed. The door opened and Edmund walked in as Susan rolled over. Edmund took one look at her teary face.

"What's wrong, Su?" he asked gently. "Are you alright?" Susan proceeded to spill out her whole tale about Victor.

"And, oh, Edmund, he said the Bible wasn't true: that it is a lie; just a fairytale." She began to cry again.

"Su," Edmund sighed. "You know that's not true." Her answer surprised him.

"But what if it is, Edmund?" Susan asked. "What if the Bible is just a fairytale?"

"Susan!" Edmund laughed. "That's like saying Narnia isn't real." Susan frowned.

"Then what if Narnia isn't real?"

Edmund looked unbelieving at her. "Susan, we all know that Narnia is real. We lived there for years!"

"But what if it isn't real?" Susan repeated. "What if, say we made it up but it seems like it was real? Hmm?"

"I'm not sure I understand," replied Edmund. "What does proof of Narnia have to do with evolution and the Bible?"

"Well," Susan explained. "Say we made up Narnia and all our adventures. Couldn't men have just made up the Bible and pretended it was God's word?"

"That's the thing, Su," answered Edmund. He quickly picked up Susan's Bible from her bedside table. He flipped to 2 Timothy. "Here," he offered. "2 Timothy 3:16 - 17 says, 'All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.' Do you believe that? Do you believe that the Bible was inspired, meaning literally God-breathed?"

"But – but say that men just made up that verse," protested Susan. "Would you still believe the Bible?"

"You're not getting the point!" Edmund ran a hand through his messy hair and let out a long breath. "This is God's word! There is no way that man could have made this all up. It's too perfect. The same message is relevant through the entire Bible. It's all one great story! Can't you see that?"

"There are times when-" Susan broke off in anger. "Times when I'm just so – so angry with you! Oh, just go away and leave me alone!" She crossed her arms and turned her back to Edmund. He sighed and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Susan," he whispered gently. "Do you remember what you said at the Stone Table, that-" Edmund choked up and couldn't say the words. "That night?" Susan ignored him. "You said, 'He must have known what he was doing.' Don't you believe that now, Susan? Don't you understand that he is doing something through this?"

"Please, Edmund," Susan whispered. "Just go away."

* * *

Edmund closed the door behind him and gave a long sigh, running his fingers through his dark hair.

"Edmund!" Lucy called. "Eustace has to leave!"

"Coming!" Edmund responded. He hurried down the stairs. Lucy looked at him hopefully. He shook his head. Susan was not in a mood to be reasoned with.

"Eustace!" He smiled upon spotting his cousin. "Thanks for dropping in. I'm sure Lucy enjoyed your company. Sorry I had to excuse myself for a bit. Susan doesn't want to face common sense today."

"That's alright," Eustace replied. "Lucy and I had a jolly good time reminiscing about Narnia."

"Oh, yes! It was quite cheering to talk of old friends and familiar places. Don't you think so, Edmund?" Lucy asked.

"Quite right," Edmund agreed. "I'm only sorry that I couldn't join in."

"You did what you needed to do," Eustace answered. "Well, I should be off. Harold and Alberta will be wondering where I'm gadding off to. I had a very pleasant afternoon. Thank you! Goodbye!"

"Goodbye, Eustace!" Lucy called after him.

"Mind the puddles," Mrs. Pevensie reminded as she appeared behind Edmund and Lucy.

"Farewell, Eustace!" Edmund waved. Eustace turned around and waved back. As he waved, he stepped in a puddle.

"Didn't I warn him to mind the puddles?" Mrs. Pevensie asked.

"You did, Mum," Edmund answered. They all laughed. Lucy closed the door on the dreary world outside.

"I think I will go see Susan," Lucy announced. Edmund raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. Lucy dashed up the stairs. Edmund slumped into one of the chairs in the living room.

"Are you alright, Edmund?" Mrs. Pevensie asked in concern. She placed her hand on his forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever."

"I'm alright, Mum," Edmund replied. "Just a bit tired. That's all."

"How about a cup of tea?" she asked. Edmund nodded and closed his eyes as his mother left the room.

"Why?" Edmund whispered. "What are you doing, Aslan? Where are you? How is this for our good? Susan is losing her faith. Are you just going to let her go?" He felt the anger building and fought against it, for long and bitter experience had taught him that raging against situations out of his control brought nothing but harm. Edmund took a deep breath and steadied himself. He knew that the best solution lay in quietly asking for help and trusting Aslan would do what was best.

Edmund picked up Lucy's Bible from the coffee table and let it fall open to Job 38. Edmund began to read.

'Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell _Me_ if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements? Surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? To what were its foundations fastened? Or who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?' Edmund continued to read through Chapter 38 and farther to Chapter 40. There Edmund read aloud what Job had said.

"'Behold, I am vile; what shall I answer You? I lay my hand over my mouth. Once I have spoken, but I will not answer. Yes, twice, but I will proceed no further." Edmund closed his eyes. "Lord, I know that You can do everything, and that no purpose of Yours can be withheld from You." Edmund bent his head. Only the Great Lion could help his sister now.

* * *

"Susan?" Lucy asked quietly as she peeked in the doorway.

"Go away, please," Susan answered. "I'm fine."

"Susan, why are you acting like this?" Lucy wondered.

Susan's careless laugh floated back to her. "Acting like what?"

"Like this! Why are you pretending nothing is wrong?" demanded Lucy.

"It's nothing. I can handle it by myself."

"But you can't!" protested Lucy. "I can see it in your eyes. You want someone to help."

"No!" Susan exclaimed. "Just leave me alone. I'm fine and it's none of your business."

Lucy stared at her in shock. "Susan–"

"Leave!" Susan yelled. Lucy stumbled backwards before running out of the room. Susan let out a sigh. She hadn't meant to snap at Lucy. She just wanted to be left alone. Her siblings could be so nosey sometimes. Susan sat on the edge of her bed and picked up Peter's letter that had come last week. She hadn't been able to read it yet. She skimmed the letter, purposely skipping over the Bible verses. She didn't have time for that now.

_Why?_ She suddenly asked herself. Why didn't she have time for the Bible? Why did she avoid speaking of Narnia and Aslan? What was happening to her? She still believed. She knew it was real. But sometimes she didn't want it to be.

Peter's letter was still clutched in her hands. She stared at the meaningless words of the verse glaring back at her. _Trust in the Lord with all your heart._

"_Dear one, you and your brother shall never return to Narnia," _Aslan's words rang in her head.

"_What do you mean?" Susan asked._

"_Su, we're not coming back," Peter answered. Not coming back? It echoed fiercely in her mind. Susan felt as if she couldn't breathe. Narnia meant everything to her. To have it suddenly snatched away was impossible. How could Aslan do this to her? How could someone – as loving and selfless as He – take away everything she held dear?_

"Aslan, why?" Susan asked. "Why did you take Narnia from me? What did I ever do to deserve this?" As soon as Susan began to question this, everything began to crumble. What if her friends were right? Maybe God didn't exist. Maybe Narnia was only a game. Maybe the Professor was crazy. But that would mean that her siblings were crazy too. And she couldn't believe that. Perhaps they were only being childish. After all, Susan had always been the mature one.

Now that Susan had started down this path, she wasn't turning around. It couldn't be real. It was impossible. Aslan – if he had ever existed in the first place – wouldn't do this do her. It was such a cruel world. Cruel. Susan laughed bitterly. It was indeed cruel. It was cold-hearted enough to rip your soul out.

But soon the heartless laugh turned into choking sobs. Susan wanted to be free. But as she looked back over her shoulder, she found that the only way out was through everything she was running from. So she turned around and kept running a hundred miles an hour – in the wrong direction.

"Can anybody hear me?" Susan wondered desperately. The silence was deafening. And she was only hanging on by a thread. The shadows were long and she feared if she cried, the tears would not stop raining down. She didn't make a sound. She was alone in this fight with herself. But she wanted to be found.

"Susan?" a voice asked softly. Susan looked up and found Edmund standing in her doorway. He had come to see Susan after Lucy ran down the stairs crying. He came over to the bed and sat down beside Susan.

"I know you're not alright," Edmund continued. "And I know it's hard to hang on but-"

Susan coldly cut him off. "I don't want to hang on! I'm sick of pretending. Wouldn't it just be better if we forgot about Narnia?"

"Susan, you can't really mean that!" Edmund protested.

"Edmund, I know that Narnia was beautiful. Yes, it was a perfect dream where we were something different," Susan paused. "But it's over now. There's no going back. And if we all cling to that so tightly, we'll never be able to live the lives we have now."

"Susan!" Lucy exclaimed in shock as she reentered the doorway. "How can you say that? It isn't wrong to long for Narnia." Lucy had been passing by when she heard the discussion.

There was a very long silence as Susan's siblings stared at her, their eyes pleading with her to recant what she had just said – to lie to herself and to them for just a little longer. But Susan couldn't do it. She was ever the sensible one. She had always known that home was England.

"Don't you see?" Susan plunged ahead. "If we're never going back, then what use is it to hope? Remember how hard it was when we first came back?" she pressed. "Remember how alone we felt?"

Lucy was trembling – with what, Susan couldn't tell. Anger? Fear? Hurt? "I'm sorry if these words hurt you," Susan apologized gently. "I just want you to remember what it did to us the first time."

Edmund stared sadly at Susan. Lucy was wrestling with her ardent temper. Her fists clenched tightly, then loosened, then clenched again.

"Susan," she said at last. "If we don't hope in Narnia, what else is there to live for?"

"Don't you understand, Lucy?" Susan begged. "You can't keep living in Narnia forever. Life keeps moving on."

Lucy shook her head. "But Susan, a part of me will always live in Narnia," she whispered. "My heart."

"And I agree with Lucy," Edmund firmly declared. Susan stared pleadingly at them. When they refused to recant, she turned and fled from the room, unbidden tears streaming down her cheeks.

* * *

**Author's note:** Hope you enjoyed the chapter! This is my last update before I leave on my missions trip this week. I will write more when I return! But until, then, so long. Please review!


	10. Combat and Wombats

**Author's note:** A bit of a longer chapter today. For those of you who are not aerospace maniacs, a spitfire is a RAF WW2 fighter plane with a crew of one person. I assume you know what a wombat is. What that has to do with WWII you will have to wait and find out.

Lucy's letter is inspired by Big Daddy Weave's song, _I'll Be Brave This Christmas._ Usually I try to keep the chapters to either Peter or the other three but in this one I had to combine a bit of Lucy with Peter's adventures. It didn't fit anywhere else. Enjoy!

P.S. I know my dates are a little off with how old the Pevensies should really be in 1944 but then the war would be over before Peter was 18. So just work with me, please.

* * *

**Chapter 10 – Combat and Wombats**

Lucy chewed thoughtfully on the end of her pencil. Her thoughts danced and swirled in her head like the snowflakes outside. She set the pencil down and reached for her cup of tea. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose in disgust when she discovered it was cold. She returned the cup to its place and picked up the pencil. She touched it down to the paper and began to write.

_December 17, 1944_

_Dear Peter, _

_I missed you today when we set up the Christmas tree. The angel never looked so good on top. But my heart felt sad when you weren't there to bake cookies, or sing carols, or help decorate the tree. _

_Many houses on our street are lit up with Christmas lights but bombs and planes are flashing across your evening sky. Susan's right; freedom isn't free. It takes sacrifice from all of us. You're living out the cost of peace on earth tonight. So this year, it won't be presents I'll be wishing for. _

_But Peter, I'll be brave this Christmas, while you're still far away. I pray every night that Aslan will keep you safe and bring you home to us. We're so proud of you and we hope you return soon. But until you do, I'll be brave._

_Your little sister,_

_Lucy the Valiant_

The backdoor slammed unexpectedly and Lucy jumped.

"I'm home, Lu!" Edmund called loudly as he appeared in the doorway of the living room. Lucy laughed cheerfully as she noticed all the snow sticking in Edmund's dark hair.

"Susan's not going to be very happy when she discovers you tracked snow all the way from the door to the living room," Lucy reminded. Edmund grinned slyly.

"She won't know," he promised, retreating into the kitchen. Lucy frowned as she heard Edmund fumbling around. He reappeared without his boots and began wiping the floor with a towel. Lucy began giggling again.

"What?" Edmund asked indignantly.

Lucy continued to giggle. "That's the clean dish towel, Edmund!"

"Oh." Edmund turned slightly red. Lucy shook her head.

"Let me help, brother dear," she offered. She stepped over the puddles and grabbed the dirty towel from Edmund's hands. She knelt down beside him. Lucy quickly mopped up the water while Edmund watched.

"Here," Lucy said when she finished. She tossed the dripping towel to her brother. Edmund smiled gleefully.

"Hey, Lucy," Edmund called. "Watch this!" He threw the towel at her. Lucy ducked in time but brown drops of water splattered her face.

"Edmund!" she exclaimed. She quickly grabbed the towel and threw it back.

"No fair!" Edmund pouted when the towel hit his forehead. "I tried not to hit your face."

"So?" Lucy challenged.

"Would you miss me if I was gone?" Edmund asked abruptly.

Lucy looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Would you miss me?"

"Well, yes, of course. But what do you-" She was cut off as Edmund suddenly pulled her into a tight hug.

"Don't cry for me, Lucy," Edmund pleaded. "And be strong for Susan."

"Edmund, you're scaring me!" Lucy protested. "What are you talking about? Are you sure you're quite alright?"

"Just, oh, never mind," Edmund replied, shaking his head. "Forget what I just said, please."

"Edmund, are you sure you're alright?" Lucy asked again.

"Yes, I'm fine, Lu. Don't worry," Edmund reassured. He squeezed her hand gently though she continued to frown at him. Edmund picked up the wet towel and flung it at the sink. It hit a pot and a loud clatter echoed through the house.

"Lucy? Edmund? Whatever are you doing, children?" came an inquiring voice. Edmund and Lucy grinned at each other.

"Nothing dangerous, Mum!" Edmund yelled. Lucy laughed and lightly flicked Edmund's arm. He scowled. Lucy put on her sweetest face.

"Edmund, my dearest brother, would you mind taking this letter to the mailbox?" she asked.

"Lucy!" Edmund exclaimed. "I just got cleaned up and warm! No, I'm not going back outside."

"Please?" Lucy begged, giving him her puppy dog face. Edmund sighed.

"No, Lucy. That face only works on Peter and Dad."

"Come on, Ed," she pleaded. "It's a letter for Peter. Just do this one little favor for him. Imagine how excited he will be to get a letter from me! Besides, it's almost Christmas."

"So?" Edmund asked. "What does Christmas have to do with anything?"

"Because when it's Christmas time, boys are supposed to be nice to their little sisters," Lucy teased and tossed the wet towel at him again.

"Lucy!" Edmund howled. But she had already dashed away.

* * *

_December 21, 1944_

Peter was humming to himself cheerfully, despite the frigid wind, as he stood on the wing of a spitfire, cleaning the windows. He rubbed vigorously at a spot that refused to disappear. He blew on his cold fingers. He sighed in slight annoyance when he discovered he could see his breath in the air. The dinner bell rang and Peter jumped down from the wing, leaving the rag behind. On the way, he met Warren who was vigorously rubbing his hands together to keep them warm.

"Window washing?" Warren assumed as he greeted to Peter.

"Yep," Peter nodded. "It's too cold. My water kept frosting the windows."

"Same," Warren sighed. "When do you think they will let us fly?"

"I don't know," Peter answered. "Probably soon. We've trained long enough. I expect it will be during the next air attack."

They exchanged stories of their long afternoon as they washed their hands in the icy water and entered the crowded mess tent. Peter sighed thankfully. He could feel the warmth creeping up his toes and he unwrapped his scarf from around his neck.

Peter and Warren found seats in the midst of the conversing crowd. Bowls of watered-down chicken soup were handed to them. Peter laughed as Warren ravenously dug into his bowl with a relish unassociated with soup. Peter laughed even harder when Warren discovered he had burnt his tongue.

"Ah, my tongue!" Warren exclaimed, trying to hold on to it as he spoke. The other men and boys roared with laughter.

"Really, Warren," Peter chuckled. "I expected you would know that soup is hot."

"At home it is," Warren answered. "But I was so cold I forgot!" Peter shook his head, an amused smile still playing on his lips.

* * *

That night, Peter watched the room silently. Galvin was sprawled on his cot, scribbling something in a notebook. Warren was combing his hair. Peter turned his head as Officer Brandon walked in.

"Mail delivery, boys," he announced, and tossed Peter two envelopes. Peter eagerly ripped open his first letter which was addressed in Edmund's hand writing. There were several sheets of paper inside and Peter pulled out the first one. He read it with a puzzled expression.

_Dear Peter,_

_Did you know that wombat rhymes with combat?_

_Your cheeky brother, Edmund_

Peter frowned. _What is that supposed to mean?_ He wondered and opened the next paper.

_Pete,_

_Did you know that a wombat is a small marsupial from Australia?_

_- Ed_

Peter shook his head in puzzlement. What in Narnia did wombats have to do with anything? Finally, Peter opened the third paper.

_Brother mine,_

_I'm just teasing you. Why would I send such a short letter about wombats when there is so much to be discussed. Mainly about Prince Joneras. Quite an interesting, secret-keeping fellow, eh?_

Peter forgot about his irritation at wombats as he read Edmund's thoughts on Prince Joneras.

_Cor and Aravis's grandson? That's new. Corin and I used to tease poor Cor about liking Aravis. I remember reading something about Ram the Great in one of the precious books in Dr. Cornelius's library in Miraz's castle. I'll see if I can recall it:_

_King Ram of Archenland (I think that's how it began) was the son of King Cor and gracious Queen Aravis. Ram was the greatest king of Archenland and therefore earned the sobriquet 'The Great'. His reign commenced in the year 1050. The year of his death is unknown. He was the father of five daughters and one son who died as an infant. He was eventually succeeded by his first-born, the fair Queen Cíwen. (Then it goes into the few details of Cíwen.) She remained a virgin and ruled until her death. Afterwards, she was succeeded by her nephew, Prince Olvin, named after the great hero. Then the line continued down to Nain who was king during the War of Deliverance. Nain was the last entry in Dr. Cornelius's list of the monarchy of Archenland. _

_Unfortunately, on my last trip to Narnia, I didn't have the opportunity to explore the history books. That is all the light I can shed on Archenland. But now I am sure you wish to hear news of home._

_Lucy is fine, cheerful as ever. It's Susan that I'm worried about. Peter, she is beginning to question her faith. She is asking questions that I'm scared to answer. She continues to ask, "What if Narnia isn't real? What if it is just something we made up?" I'm scared Peter. I don't know what to tell her anymore. If possible, please write to her with encouragement to pursue her faith and all things that are right, just, pure, holy, praiseworthy and excellent. We miss you as always._

_Your brother,_

_King Edmund_

_P.S. See you soon! I promised I would find you. Christmas break offers the perfect opportunity!_

_What?_ Peter wondered. Realization hit him, leaving him stunned and staring at the paper. _Oh, by the Lion. No! Edmund won't do that, will he? _Peter found himself questioning. Would Edmund really try to find him here? Could Edmund really mean it? In a sickening moment, Peter knew it was true. Edmund was trying to find him.

Peter tossed the letter on the cot with Lucy's unopened one. Warren and Galvin looked up in surprise.

"I'll be back," Peter announced and swept out into the cold. He quickly ran towards the control room where lights were still gleaming. He must warn Susan before Edmund tried to leave. Peter burst in the door.

"I need to use the telephone," he breathlessly explained to the two officers. "It's an emergency. I may be able to save my brother from the Devil's rash plans."

"By all means," the senior officer answered. "Call at once, Pevensie."

Peter began to dial. He held his breath as the call began to go through. _Dear God, _he prayed earnestly._ Please let Susan answer. Let me contact her before it is too late._

The phone stopped ringing. The call hadn't gone through. Peter sighed in defeat. He dialed again, willing it to connect.

"Hello?" came a faint voice. Peter sighed in relief.

"Susan?" he asked.

"Peter!" Susan squealed. "Oh, you always call just when I need you."

"It's Aslan's doing, Su," Peter answered, taking no credit for himself. "Susan, I need to warn you. I just got a letter from Edmund and-"

"He's gone, Peter," Susan sniffled.

"Gone?" Peter felt the world spinning one hundred miles around him.

"Yes," Susan replied, trying to hold back her tears. "He left a note for Lucy, Mum and I explaining why he had to go. He went to find you, Peter."

"I know," Peter answered. "I had hoped to stop him. But it's too late. He sent the letter last week."

"Oh, Peter. What are we going to do?" Susan sobbed. "He doesn't know where you are! And we don't know where he is. Oh, anything could happen to him before he ever finds you!" She broke down in tears. Peter clenched his jaw. He hated being across the ocean while his family needed him most.

"It's alright, Su," he comforted. "Aslan will protect Edmund. I'll find him. I promise."

"What good are promises on a battlefield?" Susan demanded. "Either one of you could be blow to pieces before tomorrow."

"That's very true, Susan," Peter answered stiffly. "But I-"

"Oh, Peter! I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," she apologized. "I didn't think before I spoke. I'm just really upset about Edmund."

"I understand," Peter replied. "And I am just as worried. But Susan, I will find him. Or Aslan will bring us together in His country."

"How can you trust Aslan like that when-" Susan's voice was drowned out by the sounds of the air sirens going off.

"Look, Su," Peter yelled above the sound. "I've got to go! Air raid! I'll talk to you later! Love you and Lu and Mum!" He didn't wait for her to answer and set the phone down on its receiver. _Edmund_. He shook his head. _Ever susceptible to trouble._ Peter reached the door and stuck his head outside.

The spotlights grazed the black sky, glinting off German bombers. Explosions reached his ears. One of the hangars was up in flames. Men ran back and forth in the confusion.

"Peter!" someone shouted. Peter whipped his head up. Warren and Galvin made their way towards him.

"Lieutenant Brandon says we get to fly!" Warren shouted. "We're supposed to go to the planes. The Germans are trying to destroy them. It's time to get in the sky and fight back."

Peter grinned. "May the adventure begin!"

* * *

**Author's note: **Whew! Can't believe this is chapter 10 already! Peter is headed for adventure and trouble. Do you think Edmund will find Peter? What did you think of the chapter? I'd love to hear your thoughts so click the review button!


	11. Red Nine

**Author's note: **Sorry it took me forever to write this chapter! I apologize. I've had a very busy time the last few weeks and haven't gotten to work on this story in a bit. But yesterday and today, I really pushed to have a new chapter for you to read. Hope you enjoy it. The climax is beginging. Don't forget that in the last chapter, Peter found out that Edmund was going to follow him. We may check in with Susan & Lucy in another chapter or so, but for the moment I think we will focus on Peter. After all, this is kind of his story.

* * *

**Chapter 11 – Red Nine**

_Six Weeks Later…_

"This is Red One reporting, over."

"Red One, this is Base Twelve, over."

"Copy."

"Red One, this is Base Twelve. Report your numbers, over."

"This is Red One to Red Squadron. Please report, over."

"Red Two, over."

"Red Three, over."

"Red Four, over."

Silence.

"Red Five, this is Red One. Please report, over."

Still silence.

"Red Five, this is Red One. Do you copy? Over."

No answer.

"Red One, this is Red Six. Red Five went down. Over."

"Roger that, Red Six. Continue report. Over."

"Red Seven, over."

"Red Eight, over." Warren's voice crackled over the radio as Peter waited for his turn.

He grasped the radio in his left hand and spoke into the microphone. "Red Nine, over."

"Red Ten, over." The count continued.

"Red Eleven, over."

"Red Twelve, over."

"This is Red One to Red Squadron. Report concluded. Over." There was a pause. "Red One to Base Twelve. Eleven crafts accounted for. Red Five is down. Over."

"Base Twelve to Red One. Continue with proceedings. Keep in contact. Over."

"Rodger that. Over." There was a pause. "This is Red One to Red Squadron. Red Eight, take Red Nine, Red Eleven, and Red Twelve, to destroy the left gunnery. Over."

"Rodger that, Red One," Warren answered. "On my way. Over."

The four planes swerved left towards the cement base housing the large guns. Bullets began flying and the planes twisted and dodged them as they flew nearer.

"Alright, this is it," Warren announced. "We live or die as men."

Peter began to count quietly to himself. "One, two, three, four…" Every second brought them closer to their objective. "Five, six, seven…" Peter's gun was trained on the base.

"In low!" Warren instructed.

The four planes swooped down like iron hawks on the gunnery. The rat-a-tat-tat of the machine guns filled the air. The billowing smoke from the heaving guns below spread haze between the planes and Peter almost lost sight of the others.

The plane began to shake with the vibrations in the air. Several rockets flew past and exploded nearby. Peter tried to remain calm but the situation was totally out of his control.

The radio crackled again. "This is Red Twelve! I think I'm hit!"

"Hold it steady!" Warren answered. "We've almost got them."

Flashes of red in the smoky sky served as indications for Peter as to the location of the base.

"This is Red Nine," he reported in. "I'm going in close."

"Be careful," Warren replied.

_Low and steady_, Peter thought. He was speeding closer every second. The gun trailed over the top of his plane, close enough for his adrenaline to shoot up. _Steady. Steady._ The thought pounded in his head.

"Aslan! Help me!" he cried as the rat-tat-a-tat from his gun filled his head. Gunshots from the base rang out in return and pelted the right side of the plane. Two or three hit the glass of the cockpit, barely missing Peter. He breathed a sigh of relief and silently thanked Aslan. But his troubles were far from over. The guns racked the side a second time before Peter was able to swerve. Another bullet entered the cockpit and struck Peter's right arm. He gasped in pain and clutched his arm, releasing his grip on his gun. Several other shots hit the engine. It began failing and smoke billowed out of it.

"Warren!" Peter shouted frantically into his radio. "I've been hit. My engine is giving out!"

"Turn back to base!" Warren answered quickly. "Don't crash on the enemies lines! Fly for the Allies'!"

"I'm sorry," Peter replied, turning his plane about. His muscles were tense as he anxiously awaited the moment when the engine would die. It continued to splutter but didn't fully quit on him yet. The pain in his arm hindered him so he had no chance of jumping from the plane and parachuting to safety. The plane began to dive but Peter did his best to keep it steady. He knew he wouldn't make it back to base. In the last remaining moments, Peter's thoughts seemed cool and collected.

So this was it. He would likely die in the impact of the crash. He couldn't avoid it. He had always thought he would die rescuing Edmund. With this thought, he suddenly remembered his younger brother. He's couldn't give up now! Edmund was still out there…somewhere.

But the ground began to loom dangerously close and Peter closed his eyes, awaiting the impact. This was it.

"Protect them, Aslan," he whispered. Then he felt the jolting impact as the plane hit ground and the wings tore from the body. This was it. The front of the plane pushed in, crumpling up the metal easily, and Peter hit his head against the side as it flipped and the windows shattered. Peter welcomed the darkness above the pain and clamor and gave in as it enveloped him.

* * *

"Chris! Look! There's still a pilot in it!"

"He's dead, Newman. We have to save our own skins first. We'll be lucky if those Germans don't blow us up this instance."

"Chris, he's not dead! Come look, he's still breathing. I think he just has a concussion." Newman leaned in the window of the wrecked plane.

"Newman!" Chris snapped. "Get away from there!"

"Come on, Chris," he pleaded. "It's only a lad. He's got a bullet in his arm and a bloody concussion, but nothing that will kill him!"

Chris sighed. He knew there was no use taking Newman out of his notions. "How badly is he wedged in there?" he relented.

Newman surveyed the damage. "His legs are trapped, but nothing that we can't fix. Give me a hand cutting away this door." Chris moved closer and together they began to pry the door loose. A few warning bullets from the Germans rang out overhead.

"See, Newman!" Chris exclaimed, ducking down. "I knew that this would bring those blood-thirsty Germans upon us!"

"Just a little farther and I can reach him," Newman answered breathlessly as he continued to pull on the door, undaunted by the Germans. The door broke off suddenly sending Newman into the mud. Chris wordlessly offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. "Thanks," Newman responded. Chris nodded. Newman went back to work on the plane.

"Got him yet?" Chris asked after a bit.

"I've almost got his legs unstuck," Newman answered, continuing the ease the crumpled metal off the boy's legs. "Poor lad. His mother must miss him somethin' terrible. I wish my little lad at home was as brave as this one. Give me a hand, Chris." The boy's legs were finally free. Together, the two lifted the senseless lad out of the wreckage.

"How are we going to get him back to the trench?" Chris demanded.

"Simple," Newman answered. "Give me your coat."

"My coat? No!"

"Chris, hand it over." Newman balanced the weight as Chris reluctantly spread his coat out. "Take mine off as well," he instructed.

Chris helped Newman ease his arms out of the worn material. He laid both on the ground and with Newman's help, gently set the boy on top. Then they each took the sleeves and used the coats as a kind of makeshift stretcher.

"Try not to jolt the lad around too much," advised Chris gruffly.

"We'll stick to the trees and low dips as much as possible," Newman instructed. "And I think we better start praying." The two friends began their long, slow walk back to the trench. Bullets flew past them but never near enough to cause any damage. There seemed to be a path cut through the barbed wire for them as well. "The Lord is watching out for us," Newman announced. "He sure is good."

Chris didn't answer but continued plodding forward. Their boots stuck in the thick muck as they approached the edge of the trench.

"Don't shoot!" Chris exclaimed, as he leaned over the edge. "It's just Newman and I. And we've got a wounded airman. Where's the doctor?"

The other men helped Chris and Newman lower the injured boy into to the trench. The boy gave a quiet moan.

"We got to get him to the doctor pretty fast," explained Newman, "before the boy wakes up." The soldiers parted, watching as Newman and Chris carried the makeshift stretcher away from the frontlines. They passed many other men along the way.

"Careful," cautioned Chris as they approached an unusually muddy place. Progress was frustrating and they almost dropped their burden once or twice. But at last they knew they were near the makeshift hospital when they saw men limping around with bandaged heads, arms or legs. The wounded men began to crowd around to see the newcomer.

"Where's the doctor?" Newman demanded.

"He's inside." One of the men gestured to the small building covered in sacks of cement. Chris and Newman carried the lad inside and set him gently down on the only open bed. It was more like a table with a worn mattress on top.

The boy's eyes fluttered open and he cried out in pain and fear. He thrashed about wildly, legs flailing.

"Try to keep him calm," Chris told Newman. The two men tried to hold the boy down. His eyes flashed with fear and confusion.

"He's delusional," Newman concluded. They continued to hold him down and gradually he settled.

"Where is the doctor?" Chris demanded the other men. They shrugged their shoulders. Chris would have said more but as he relaxed his grip, the boy began to thrash again. He screamed and they tried to make out what he was crying.

"Ed! Ed! I promised! Ed, I'm so sorry. Ed!"

"It's going to be alright, lad," Newman soothed. "Calm down." He looked at Chris and then began silently praying. The boy's breathing steadied and he began to relax though he kept crying.

"Ed. Ed." He continued to whimper. "Ed, I'm sorry."

"Have you found the doctor yet?" Chris asked. They shook their heads again. Chris muttered something about useless invalids under his breath. The nearest injured man evidently overheard this comment for he glared at Chris and hobbled towards the next room, calling all the while, "Doctor Pevensie!"

* * *

**Author's note:** Ha ha! I leave you with a mini cliff-hanger. I'm not really sure where Chris and Newman came from. They just sort of entered the story randomly! I can't wait for you to read the next chapter! Bet you can't wait! But until then, (I hope it won't take me as long as this chapter) I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Review and let me know your thoughts or suggestions! Oh, and after you review, head over to my profile. I am running a poll regarding "Airplanes in the Night Sky." (This story!) Take time to vote! I look forward to hearing from you! :D


	12. The Power of Prayer

**Author's note: **I apologize to those of you who thought the end of the last chapter was torture. I wrote this one as fast I as could. So now you will have to deal with the typos! I don't think there are many. :) I sincerely hope you are enjoying the story, and from your reviews, I know that many of you are. Here's Chapter 12 that you have eagerly awaited.

* * *

**Chapter 12 – The Power of Prayer**

"Doctor Pevensie!" A man limped into the room. "Two men brought in another lad. They're asking for you. He keeps screaming. I'm not sure what is the matter with him."

Doctor Pevensie wiped his hands on the dirty towel beside him. He had been busy washing his tools after the last patient. He was tired and he wished he wasn't the only doctor in this part of the trench.

"Very well, Athens. I'll see to him," he answered at last. The man left and Doctor Pevensie finished gathering his tools. He could hear the boy's terrified cries and quickly entered the room. Two men in mud were trying to hold him down.

"There you are, sir," one said. "I'm Newman. This is Chris." He gestured to the other man who nodded. "We found this lad unconscious in his wrecked spitfire. I believe he has a concussion. He's been acting pretty delusional. There's a bullet in his upper right arm and I think his legs are a little banged up. The front of the plane was crumpled in on him. We tried to ease him out the best we could. Do you think he's going to be alright?"

"It's hard to tell right now," Doctor Pevensie responded. The whole time that Newman had been explaining, he had examined the boy. "Any identification?" he asked Chris and Newman.

"We didn't check, Doctor," Chris answered. The boy watched them with wide, terrified eyes. "I don't think he can tell us right now."

"It can't hurt to ask," Newman muttered.

"Boy," Doctor Pevensie spoke, leaning over to look at the fearful blue eyes. "What is your name?"

"Ed. Ed." He continued muttering the same thing he had been saying since he had awaken. "I'm sorry, Ed."

"Is your name Ed?" Doctor Pevensie asked.

Newman shook his head. "I don't think so, Doctor. You see, he's been muttering that same name since he woke."

"Yes, I see," mused Doctor Pevensie.

The boy's mouth trembled as he tried to form words. "N-name i-is P-Pete," a shaky breath, "–Peter."

"Peter?" Doctor Pevensie echoed. The boy nodded. The Doctor looked sad as he remembered his own son, Peter, back in England. Oh, how he missed his family! But there was no time for reminiscing. "Peter," the Doctor explained. "You're hurt and I need to look at your arm. Can you try to hold still?" The boy didn't answer. He blinked his eyes several times.

"He's delusional," Newman commented again.

"Wait," Doctor Pevensie answered. "I think he's going to go out in a minute." Sure enough, the eyes closed and the lad returned to unconsciousness. "It's for the best," Doctor Pevensie assured. "Now, Newman and Chris, I will need your assistance. Will you give me a minute?"

They nodded. Doctor Pevensie walked back to the other room which was empty. He slowly sat down on a chair. He was so worn out. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

"Father," he began to pray, "You understand everything. You know what's in my heart. I'm tired, I'm worn, I just want to be home. Yet, you brought this young man here who needs me. Father, I don't know who he is, or what he believes, but would you help me witness to him? There's a bullet in his arm that must be removed. I've extracted hundreds of bullets in the last four years, but somehow I feel that this one is different. I'm asking you for strength and guidance. This is for Your glory, Father. In the Name of Your Son, I pray. Amen."

Doctor Pevensie stood up and squared his shoulders. He knew that God would give him strength to carry on. He returned to where Newman and Chris were anxiously waiting. Peter was still unconscious.

Doctor Pevensie took a breath. "I'm ready."

* * *

Peter lay on the bed, breathing easily, sleeping peacefully. He didn't know what had taken place. When he had woken the first time after the crash, he didn't know where he was. All he could remember was that Edmund was out there somewhere and he knew he couldn't die because Edmund needed him. In his hazy mind, he remembered two strangers and a man who looked like a doctor of some sort. He remembered calling for Edmund and he remembered that the doctor's face seemed distantly familiar. Then he faded out again into feverish dreams where something was trying to take his brother, but Peter wouldn't give in. Now those dreams were gone and they were replaced by a soothing blankness and images of the Great Lion.

Doctor Pevensie sat beside his dreaming patient, examining the wound. He began washing the bloody mess with a wet cloth. Soon it was clean and he wrapped a white bandage around the clean injury. He bound it tightly and fastened it securely.

To be honest with himself, Doctor Pevensie had to admit that the bullet had come out easier than he had expected. He knew that this was God's doing. When he first saw the gash, he knew that it would be difficult. Though the bullet wasn't buried deep, it entered at an angle, making it difficult to pull through the layers of muscle.

"Is he going to be alright, Doctor?" Newman asked, breaking into Doctor Pevensie's thoughts.

"Yes, I'm sure he'll be fine in a day or so. Thank you for your help, Newman. And you too, Chris." Doctor Pevensie nodded. "It would have been difficult without your help."

Chris and Newman seemed relieved at the outcome. Newman never once during the difficult extraction had regretted pulling Peter out of the wreck. He knew that God was going to do something wonderful through the young man. Newman's excitement was evident.

"God was at work, wasn't he, Doctor?"

"Yes, I believe He was." Doctor Pevensie smiled. "I couldn't have done it without Him."

Chris held his own opinions. He thought that perhaps Doctor Pevensie had just misevaluated the injury. Even though he was a soldier and death was always looming, Chris didn't care for faith. He would rather rely on his own strength.

"We better get back," Chris spoke up. "We've been gone for a while."

"Of course," Doctor Pevensie replied. "May God bless you."

"Thank you, Doctor." Newman smiled. "May He bless you just as much." Newman and Chris turned and left the hospital building and returned to their positions at the frontline.

Doctor Pevensie placed his hand on Peter's shoulder, bowed his head and began to fervently thank God for His guidance and to pray for the young airman's recovery.

* * *

Peter's eyes fluttered open. His head hurt a bit and his arm was throbbing, but he felt truly awake. He looked about him. He didn't recognize the cement walls of the bunker hospital.

"What's your name?"

Peter slowly raised himself to a sitting position and saw a lad sitting on a bed beside him. He was careful not to stare when he saw that the boy was missing a leg.

"I'm Peter Pevensie," Peter answered. "What's your name?"

"Most folks call me Jimmy," he replied. "Where are you from?"

"Finchley, England," Peter said.

"I'm from Pennsylvania," Jimmy announced. "That's in America." He looked over his shoulder briefly. "Here comes the Doctor. I'll talk to you later."

Doctor Pevensie approached with a smile. "How are you feeling, Jimmy?"

"Ready to return," he answered.

Doctor Pevensie laughed before turning to Peter. "And what about you?"

"A bit dizzy," replied Peter. "Is there any water that I could have?"

"I'll get some," Jimmy volunteered. He stood up and Peter was amazed to watch him use his crutches to easily cross the room.

"Jimmy's as close to a miracle as I've ever seen," Doctor Pevensie spoke, following Peter's gaze. "When they brought him in, we all doubted that he'd live through the operation. Yet here he is, though missing a leg, and he's fit as ever."

"God gives second chances," Peter replied.

Doctor Pevensie looked surprised. "Are you a Christian?"

"Yes." Peter smiled.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"How did I get here?" asked Peter.

"I thought you would ask that," Doctor Pevensie answered. He began to tell Peter what he knew of what Newman and Chris had done to bring him here. Then he told about how he had prayed and asked God's guidance in extracting the bullet. "Newman believes that God put him near your plane to rescue you so that you can achieve wonders for Him."

Peter smiled. "I hope He will use me. I'm just a small part of his great plan."

"Wise words," Doctor Pevensie responded.

Peter offered his hand which the Doctor took. "Thank you, Doctor-" He hesitated.

"Pevensie," Doctor Pevensie supplied.

"Pevensie?" Peter asked slowly.

"Yes." Doctor Pevensie noted the look of confusion on Peter's face. "Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just that I am Peter…Pevensie," he whispered. "Are you-" He was cut off as Doctor Pevensie knelt and looked into his eyes.

"Peter? My Peter?"

"Yes," Peter answered in almost disbelief. "Dad."

"Oh, Father!" Doctor Pevensie exclaimed as he embraced his eldest son tightly. "Thank you for restoring my son to me."

Peter felt like crying as he held on to his father. He hadn't seen him in nearly five years. He never thought they would meet at the frontlines and never imagined his dad would be the one pulling a bullet from his arm. He silently thanked God for guiding him to his father.

They finally let go as Jimmy returned.

"Water?" Jimmy asked. "Or a tissue?"

"Both." Father and son laughed together.

* * *

Peter still wore a beaming smile since the events earlier in the morning. He was sitting near the doorway now so he could watch the men going past. Jimmy sat near him, whittling a piece of wood with his pocket knife.

Peter had talked for a while with his father before Doctor Pevensie had left to check on other patients. New men were occasionally brought in – those who weren't left on the field or shot dead. One man this morning had lost his arm.

Peter looked up and smiled as his father sat down beside him.

"How has your mother been doing?" he asked.

"Mum has been strong," Peter answered. "She had to send the four of us to Professor Kirke's house in the country during the bombing. We had some amazing adventures while we were there. But after the bombing was over, we came home. We returned to school shortly afterwards. The girls, Edmund and I come home whenever we can. Recently, Susan has finished school and she is trying to complete the nursing program. She is living at home with Mum."

"You mentioned that Susan is completing nursing school. What are Edmund and Lucy's ambitions?" ask Doctor Pevensie.

"As far as I know, Lucy hasn't made up her mind," Peter answered with a chuckle. "She's always bright and sunny, but she still has a few years of school ahead of her. Edmund? Well, he wants to attend law school when he is finished."

Peter paused and looked up as a cohort marched past, heading for the front lines. A slim lad with dark hair caught Peter's eye. The words died on his tongue as he stared at the blurred face. For a second – just a second, Peter thought it was Edmund. But the lad turned his head and continued marching.

* * *

**Author's note: **I leave you with another identification cliffhanger! Don't worry! Edmund will be in the story shortly. Peter isn't going to just abandon him. And of course Doctor Pevensie will be in future chapters as well. I rather enjoyed writing about him even though I know almost nothing about the medical conditions of WW2. I hope it's mostly correct. :) The next chapter will be about the girls. Just a heads up. Then it's back to Peter, Doctor Pevensie and Edmund. Review and yell at me if you want. :)


	13. On the Home Front

**Author's note: **Here's chapter 13! I've been on a roll. Here we switch back to Susan and Lucy. :) Don't worry, Peter, Edmund and Doctor Pevensie will survive until the next chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 13 – On the Home Front**

_January 1945_

Susan unlocked the backdoor and entered, slipping off her shoes on the floor mat. The house was dark so she flipped on the lights. She found a note from her mother on the kitchen counter.

_Hello Susan!_

_I saw Lucy off on the train back to school today. She was disappointed that you didn't come. Mrs. Edwards called this afternoon and needs help with the decorations for the Ladies' Aid meeting. I won't be back until later tonight. Nancy Porter dropped off a casserole at lunchtime. I saved some for you._

_Love you,_

_Mum_

Susan sighed and plopped the car keys down on the counter. She went to the fridge and pulled out the casserole. She didn't bother to warm it, but cut herself a piece, sat down at the table and ate in silence.

The day hadn't gone very well for her. She had wanted to see Lucy off at the station, but she was late enough for work as it turned out. Because she was late, she got in trouble with her boss who didn't understand her reasons. Susan sighed again, picking at her food.

She ate slowly and afterwards washed her plate. The house seemed lonely without Lucy or Edmund. Christmas break was over and Lucy had returned to school. There had been no news from Edmund and they had only received one letter from Peter since he had been shipped out. Communication was slow to families across the English Channel. However, Susan was thankful for her brief conversation with Peter over the phone.

The telephone rang and Susan moved to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Susan! This is Hailey."

"Oh, hi Hailey," Susan answered.

"Hey, I was wondering if you are busy on Saturday?"

"Um, I don't think so," Susan replied slowly.

"Great! Do you want to go shopping with me and a couple of the girls? We're planning to take the train into London."

"I'll have to think about it," Susan replied. "I might have to work on Saturday. Oh."

"What?"

"I kind of promised my little sister that I would take the train up to visit her at school," Susan admitted. "She had to return today and I didn't get to see her off."

"Aww, that's too bad. I'm sure if you explained to her that she would understand why you couldn't come."

"Actually, I don't think she would," Susan replied. "She doesn't care for things like that."

"What does she care for?"

"Her Bible," Susan answered. "Things of faith."

"I think she needs a good introduction to modern life," Hailey scoffed. "Why don't you bring your backwards little sister with?"

"She isn't backwards!" Susan exclaimed. "She's just…different. I already told you: she doesn't care for things of this world."

"Of this world?" laughed Hailey. "Like there is any other world but this one!"

Susan didn't reply. Instead she pressed her lips tightly together and struggled to keep her temper from lashing out.

"Susan? Are you still there?"

"Yes," Susan replied. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't make comments about my younger sister, unless they are edifying."

"I'm sorry," Hailey apologized. "I just thought you could enjoy yourself shopping and still keep your promise to your sister. What do you say, Susie?"

"Well…" Susan hesitated. "I don't have much money to spend, and I don't know if Lucy will agree to it-"

"I'll save two seats," promised Hailey. "It's going to be so much fun!"

Susan tuned out as Hailey chattered about the pleasures of London. There came a knock on the front door.

"Hailey, I have to answer the door," Susan explained. "Hold on." She opened the door.

"Telegram for the Pevensie family," announced the man on the doorstep.

"Yes, I'm Susan Pevensie," Susan answered. The man handed her the telegram. Susan thanked him and closed the door as he turned away.

"Who's it from?" Hailey asked. Susan had forgotten her friend's existence.

"I don't know," she confessed.

"Well, open it!" Hailey exclaimed impatiently.

"I-it's from the Royal Air Force." Susan's hands trembled as she opened the single sheet of paper. She began to read it aloud. "Pevensie Family, we regret to inform you that Peter Pevensie-" Susan broke off with a loud sob.

"Susan? Susan, what's wrong?" Hailey demanded.

Susan took a gulping breath trying to cage her rampant emotions that were the reaction from the rest of the unannounced page. _Peter Pevensie is missing. His plane crashed Friday, December 30. _

"I-I'll talk to you tomorrow," she stuttered to Hailey.

"Susan-"

Susan determinedly hung up and crumpled into the nearest chair. She clung to the worn fabric, sobbing her tears into it. Peter just couldn't be missing. It wasn't possible. "What have I done?" she begged. "What have I done to deserve this? First Edmund, now Peter. Will Lucy be next?" She pressed her face into the back of the chair, fighting with her tears. She begged them to stop pouring. She began to grow angry.

This was all Aslan's fault, wasn't it? He had only caused her pain. But she heard Lucy gently chiding her.

_"Is your faith that small? When has Aslan ever abandoned us? Don't you remember all the wonderful things he has done for us? Don't listen to your fears, Susan!"_

Susan ignored the voice in her head; the voice of her sister. This wasn't about faith. This was about her brother. With that thought, she began to sob again. How would she ever tell Mum and Lucy?

Susan shifted her position in the chair. There was something uncomfortable about it. At last she stood up and pulled off the seat cushion. Underneath, was a book and between the pages, a sheet of paper. Wiping away a few stray tears, Susan opened the book which, she noted, was by Charles Dickens, and she took out the sheet of paper.

_Dear Su,_

_This past week God has really put it on my heart to pray for strength for you. I don't know what is happening in your life right now, but maybe you just need some encouragement. Be strong in the Lord. Never give up hope._

_Love your little brother,_

_Ed_

Susan felt like crying again, but before she could the telephone rang. She deplored answering it, feeling instinctively that it was Hailey, but she had no right to be mad at her friend.

"Pevensies," she answered, her voice sounding strained.

"Is this Susan Pevensie?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

"Yes," Susan answered hesitantly. "May I ask who this is?"

"Miss Susan, I am Warren Meeks."

"Warren, as in the same Warren I wrote to?" Susan asked warily.

"Yes," Warren replied. "One and the same."

"Why are you calling?" Susan inquired.

"Have you received a telegram from the RAF?"

"Yes, just a few moments ago," Susan answered. "Why should you care?"

"Because I am friend of your brother's and I was with him during the attack. Perhaps I can explain better than the telegram," suggest Warren.

"Please do," Susan replied.

"We were under orders to obliterate a German gunnery – Peter, myself and two others. The German's aim was better than we had guessed. One of the planes went down right away. We held out. Peter was going in close with the shot that would have ended it; however, they spotted him and sent out a flurry of shots. I can't forget the horror I felt as his voice crackled over the radio to me. He said, 'Warren! I've been hit. My engine is giving out!' I told him to turn around and fly for the base."

"Did he do it?" Susan interrupted. If there was one thing Peter hated it, it was retreating.

"Yes," Warren answered. "He surprised me. But I think he realized there was some sense in it. The plane went down soon afterwards when he was nearly back to the Allies' frontlines. It was a bad crash but I think he would have survived. I reported that he was missing. I don't believe he is dead."

"Then where is he?" Susan begged.

"I don't know," Warren answered. "I have only prayed that some of the foot soldiers rescued him from the plane and brought back to the trench."

"Thank you for calling and explaining this to me, Warren," Susan responded. "It eases my mind."

"Would you mind if I prayed for you and your family during this time?" Warren asked.

"Well, no," answered Susan. Prayer couldn't hurt anything, she supposed.

"Alright. Goodbye, Susan."

"Goodbye." Susan set down the phone and returned to her chair. Things were whirling about in her confused mind. Lights flashed in the driveway to announce the arrival of Mrs. Pevensie. Susan took a breath, knowing that she would have to break the news to her mother and eventually to Lucy. Maybe that shopping trip to London would be a good idea.

* * *

"We'll be over here, Susan," Hailey announced.

"Alright," Susan responded, slipping into a booth seat with Lucy. Her friends laughed frivolously as they crossed the room to the counter seats where some young men were sitting. Susan shook her head at them and turned back to Lucy.

Lucy smiled. "I'm glad you're not like them."

"Me too," Susan agreed.

"Then why do you hang out with them?" Lucy wondered.

Susan frowned. "I don't really know," she confessed. "I guess I just don't want to hurt their feelings." The girls looked up as a waiter delivered their sodas.

Lucy took a sip of hers. "Mmm! This is good, Susan!"

Susan laughed. "Would I get you something bad?"

"No," replied Lucy. They were silent as they sipped their sodas and savored the flavor.

"Thanks for bringing me with, Susan," Lucy said. "You know I don't really enjoy shopping. But I like spending time with you."

"Lucy," Susan announced, breaking the sweet contentment. "I have to tell you something serious."

Lucy took one look at her sister's face. "Oh, Susan! Is it something terrible? Is it- Oh the Lion forbid, is it Peter? Please be honest with me, Susan. I must know the truth."

"Yes, Lucy," Susan replied. "It is Peter."

"When did it happen?" Lucy asked quietly.

"On December Thirtieth," Susan answered.

"And you waited until now to tell me?" Lucy demanded, her eyes blazing.

"Please, Lucy," Susan begged. "I did what I though was best. I wanted to break it to you gently."

"Break it to me gently? Don't you understand, Susan?" Lucy demanded. "There is nothing you could do to make this any easier. You can't fix the ache by sugarcoating it." Lucy paused. "I suppose you told Mum?"

"Yes," Susan admitted. "She was greatly distraught."

"Why Peter?" Lucy asked, flinging her arms and head down on the table. "Why take our rock?"

Susan moved around the table and gently put her arms around Lucy's sobbing form. She kissed her sister's wet cheek affectionately. "He isn't gone yet, Lu," she reminded.

Lucy sat up and stared at Susan. "Why, whatever do you mean?"

"I mean to say that you misunderstood me," Susan explained. "Peter isn't dead – yet. They have only reported him as missing. One of Peter's comrades called last night and told me how it happened."

"Will you tell me?" Lucy asked.

"Of course," Susan replied, wiping away a few of her sister's stray tears. "But come, let's finish our sodas."

* * *

**Author's note: **I hope you liked checking in with Susan and Lucy! I liked what Susan said about Lucy not caring for things of this world.

We will now move from the homefront back to the battlefront. I hope you don't die in anguish (like WillowDryad did after the last chapter) waiting for news of Peter and Edmund. Ha! Review if you get a chance. :D


	14. Shattered Innocence

**Author's note: **Well, I'm back again. We've returned to frontlines! Peter is anxiously waiting to take you on another adventure through my fanfiction. Don't worry about snakes and spiders and Hitler. Peter has a gun. Or he will shortly. :)

* * *

**Chapter 14 – Shattered Innocence**

"I suppose you'll be leaving soon, now that you're better," Jimmy commented, looking up from his whittling.

"I suppose so," Peter answered.

"Your dad sure is gonna miss you," Jimmy remarked.

"Yes," Peter sighed. "I'm going to miss him too." He looked over at the bandage on his arm. The week had quickly flown by and his arm was heeling smoothly. He had two bruises below his knees from where the plane had folded in. However, these were fading quickly. Soon he would be ready to lift a gun again.

During this time, Peter had been able to assist his father in his daily work. Peter helped to change bandages, serve food and helped with whatever else needed to be done. Every afternoon, Peter and Jimmy would sit by the doorway and watch as a new cohort marched past, heading for the frontlines. Within four days, one third of those men were dead and another third were injured. And every night, Doctor Pevensie, Peter and Jimmy prayed for the families who had lost their husbands, fiancés, fathers, and sons.

"When will this cruel war be over?" Peter asked as they watched the last of another cohort disappear.

"For some men it will be today," Jimmy replied. "For others, it may be months."

Peter looked over at his friend who understood the terror of the war. "What will happen to you after this, Jimmy?" Peter asked.

"Doctor Pevensie says I'll be sent home – honorably discharged – when the next group leaves the frontlines," explained Jimmy. "Here." He held out the piece of wood he had been whittling. Peter reached for it and discovered that is was a cross. "To remind you of Him and of me." Jimmy smiled.

"Thank you, Jimmy," Peter responded. "I know this will be a great encouragement in the dark days to come." Peter knew that when his arm was strong enough to carry a gun, he would be sent with one of those doomed cohorts to march to the frontlines. He fervently prayed that Edmund never reached that place.

* * *

_One week later…_

"Be brave, lads!" shouted the Commander. "Never give in to your enemies. You're fighting today for your country, for your land, and for your families. And if any of you die out there today, know that you die fighting for England and the Allies! Do you understand, soldiers?"

"Yes, sir!" The soldiers roared.

"Then let's go over the top and show those backward German farmers what we're made of!" yelled the Commander.

"Yes, sir!" The soldiers thundered even louder.

"Furthermore, any of you who are caught sneaking back before I give the signal will be stripped of his honor and shot! Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good." The Commander scanned the faces of his cohort. He noticed that Peter wasn't shouting as enthusiastically as the other men. He also noted the bandage on his arm. The Commander dismounted from his position on an overturned crate and strode towards Peter.

"What's your name, lad?" he demanded.

"Pevensie, sir," Peter answered respectively.

"You're the airman, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Pevensie, remain behind. If you see any one of these boys retreating before I give the signal, shoot them down!"

"Shoot them down, sir?" Peter wavered.

"You heard what I said! Shoot them down!" The Commander sneered and turned away.

"Shoot them down?" Peter whispered in horrified tones to himself.

"We go over the top when I give the signal!" The Commander shouted. "Steady, now!" He looked down the long row of the trench to where the next commander was in position, several hundred yards away. Beyond him was another commander. It continued likewise down the long, long rows of the frontline trenches. A red flag was waved.

"NOW!"

At the cry, hundreds of soldiers erupted from the Allies' trench line. Doctor Pevensie would be busy with this large scale attack, Peter grimly noted. All too soon, he was standing alone in the empty trenches of mud and debris.

There was nothing to do but wait. He could hear the machine guns rattling. He could hear shouts, screams, and orders. He could smell the stench of the battle. He could feel the blood rushing in his veins. And here he was: uselessly sitting in the trench with orders to shoot whoever dared return before the order was given.

Instead of complaining, Peter bowed his head and began to pray for the men out there. He prayed for Edmund, he prayed for Warren, fighting from the air, and he prayed for Newman and Chris. He had a feeling he would see them again.

As Peter prayed, a lad dropped into the trench. The slender boy turned around and saw Peter and his gun. Peter heard the noise and looked up in surprise. He could hear the Commander's voice pounding in his head, _"Shoot them down!"_

Peter couldn't do it. He just couldn't. But it was orders. He set his jaw and forced his finger towards the trigger. It was orders.

The lad froze; his pale face was a mirror of Peter's own horror. His dark eyes flickered with fear as he awaited the shot. He bravely stood tall and determined.

Peter's hands trembled. He couldn't do this. Even if it was orders, he couldn't shoot one his fellow soldiers. His finger retreated from the trigger. Peter looked up. His blue eyes locked with brown eyes filled with terror – brown eyes that he knew so well.

"Eddie?" Peter whispered. His voice caught and he lowered the gun.

"Peter," the boy sobbed in relief.

"Edmund!" shouted Peter, as he sloshed through the muck to his younger brother. He pulled him into a fierce embrace. "Oh, Edmund," he breathed, as he held Edmund tightly. "Thank the Lion, you're alright!" Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to shoot me?" Edmund asked quietly as he pulled away. "I'm a deserter."

"Whether it was you or not, I couldn't have done it," Peter answered quickly. "But I should shoot you for all the worry you've caused me, Mum and the girls." He shook his head. "Edmund," Peter sighed. "When _are_ you going to grow up?"

Edmund gave a distant smile. "What are you going to tell the Commander?" he asked. "You could be shot for disobeying orders."

"Edmund, seeing you again would be worth it," Peter replied firmly. "Aslan will protect me." He looked close at Edmund's pale face. "Edmund, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Are you sick?"

"No, Peter," he answered. "Not sick in my body, but sick at heart."

Peter realized that his little brother's innocence had been shattered. "Oh, Ed. I should have never joined the RAF. Then you would have never followed me."

"Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay," quoted Edmund. "Your people shall be my people. And your God, my God. I've seen blood and death before, Peter, but nothing as brutal as this," confided Edmund. "They just shoot them down, like they are foolish boys shooting sparrows off a fence line. But these aren't just sparrows. These are men and boys with families who will never see them again. War is an awful thing."

"Yes, it is," Peter agreed. "But I can't help rejoicing that God has brought us together again. Oh, Edmund!" He pulled his brother into another hug. Edmund clung tightly to him, never wanting to let go again. They pulled apart as shouting was heard.

"Don't shoot! It's the retreat!" A man jumped into the trench. He stopped. "Is that you, Peter?"

"Yes," Peter answered. "Who are you?"

"Why, I'm Newman!" he laughed.

"Newman?" Peter asked incredulously. "Oh, I've wanted to meet you and thank you myself!"

Newman smiled and answered shyly, "Don't thank me. It was God's doing."

"You're right," Peter replied. "Oh, Newman. This is my brother Edmund."

Newman extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Edmund. I'm sure you're wondering how Peter and I met."

"Yes," Edmund admitted, "I was." They were interrupted as more men began pouring into the trench. One approached them.

"Ah! Chris!" Newman exclaimed. "Remember Peter?"

"Of course," Chris answered.

"This is his brother Edmund."

"Pleasure."

"Same," answered Edmund.

"Chris and I helped your brother when his plane crashed," Newman explained. "We took him to see Doctor P-" He was abruptly cut off as the Commander appeared and began looking over his men. He approached Peter.

Peter quickly whispered to Newman, "If worse comes to worst, don't let Edmund do anything stupid. Hold tight to him."

The Commander was upon them. His eyes were still wild with the fight and his smile was deathly. "What's your name, airman?" he demanded.

"Pevensie, sir."

"Yes, that's right. Pevensie. Did anyone turn back, Pevensie?"

Peter exchanged glances with Edmund and fingered the carved cross in his pocket. He couldn't lie. He had to tell the truth. "Well, yes, sir," Peter reluctantly admitted. "Just one."

"Where is his body?"

"Well, sir," Peter explained, "I couldn't shoot him."

"Didn't have the guts, boy?"

"No, sir," Peter answered. "You see, he is my brother."

"Does that give you any reason to pardon him?"

"No, sir."

"Do you know the punishment for disobeying orders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you prepared to face it?"

"Yes, sir."

"No!" Edmund shouted, breaking free of Newman's grasp. "It was my fault, sir! Don't punish him. I was the one who turned back. Please…" Edmund looked so desperate.

Peter felt his heart wrenched out at Edmund's pleading. _"No, Ed!"_ he wanted to scream. He should be the one protecting his younger brother, not the other way around.

"No, sir!" Peter protested. "Please, I was the one who disobeyed your orders." Peter looked hard at Edmund. He knew that Newman wouldn't have been able to hold Edmund back.

The Commander looked at each of the brothers before he made his judgment. "Since you both disobeyed orders and you're both so bloody set on receiving punishment, I guess we'll just have to kill two birds with one stone." He gestured to Newman. "Soldier, set them up back to back. The rest of you, get out of the way."

Newman led the two about twelve paces away from the sneering Commander. He placed them back to back; Peter in front. He knew Peter would do anything to protect his brother. Then Newman took the piece of rope that had been tossed to him and bound their wrists together.

"I'm sorry," Newman apologized. "I don't understand what God's doing. First I drag you from a plane to save you, and now I'm lining you up so they can shoot you."

"God will protect us, Newman," Peter answered bravely. "He will save us or He will take us Home."

"This is my fault, Peter!" Edmund exclaimed. "Please let me be in front. I deserve this. You were only trying to protect me and I shoved it aside. Perhaps the bullet won't go through me and you might be spared."

"I'd rather not," Peter answered dryly. "No, I will not let you be in front. I swore to protect you to the last and I rather intend on keeping that oath."

"Why, Peter?" wondered Edmund

"Because, Ed," Peter explained gently, "you are someone worth dying for."

Edmund began to weep. "Peter, I am not worth that."

"To me you are," Peter answered fiercely. "And to God you are. It is my honor and my duty to love you as my brother."

"And I love you too, Peter," Edmund replied loyally.

"We can get this over with whenever you'd done blubbering," reminded the Commander. "Face it like soldiers instead of sobbing schoolboys!"

"Soldiers we may be," Peter answered. "But brothers we are first."

The Commander didn't both to answer. Instead, he raised his gun, reached for the trigger, and fired.

* * *

**Author's note:** That's a very nasty Commander, don't you thing? Well, it's another cliffhangar for you! Don't worry; I'm working on the next chapter! :) However, we are having company this weekend so I don't know how much progress I will make. If I don't have a chapter posted by the weekend, look for one on Monday or Tuesday. Hope you enjoyed meeting up with Edmund again! Please review! :)


	15. Over the Top

**Author's note: **Hello again! Finally! I apologize for leaving you there. No doubt you are eager to read this chapter so I won't ramble too much now. But first I must say I have battled with trying to keep the story realistic in this chapter. Bear with me if it's not. The last part of this chapter is based on a true story. While tt's not totally believable, it is true. God can do the impossible. :) Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 15 – Over the Top**

"_Soldiers we may be," Peter answered. "But brothers we are first." _

_The Commander didn't bother to answer. Instead, he raised his gun, reached for the trigger, and fired._

Peter opened his eyes after he heard the shot. He felt Edmund's cold hands still clenched in his. He could feel each breath his brother took. He could feel his own uneven breathing. He looked around. This sure didn't look like Heaven. It looked like the same trench of blood and muck to him.

"Peter?" Edmund asked slowly, fearing that his brother wouldn't answer. "Did it hit you?"

"I didn't feel it," Peter answered. Edmund breathed in relief. Somehow Peter had escaped. Perhaps the Commander's aim was off. Edmund quickly loosen the knots that Newman had carelessly tied.

Peter looked around again as his hands came free. Everyone seemed to be momentarily frozen in shock. He saw all the weary soldiers, and the sneering Commander. He saw Chris and – where was Newman?

Chris suddenly recovered from his stupor and launched himself at a figure sprawled on the ground, grasping his heaving chest. Peter realized what had happened as Chris reached the almost limp figure.

"Newman! You idiot!" shouted Chris. "Why would you jump in front of a gun?"

Newman just smiled back, despite his failing heart and pounding pain. "God has great plans for these lads, Chris," he answered. "Watch out for them. And tell my boy that his daddy loved him." With that, Newman closed his eyes.

"Newman!" shouted Chris. "No! No! You can't do this to me. Please stop joking with me. Newman, please," he pleaded desperately.

"Be strong," Newman whispered hoarsely. "Look…to…Him." He pointed upward and then his hand loosely fell back on his chest.

"Newman!" Chris pleaded desperately. "Fight it! Don't give in, my cousin!" He pressed the limp hand to his wet cheek. "Please, Newman. Don't go."

Peter placed his hand on Chris's shaking shoulder. "He's gone, Chris."

"No!" Chris shouted as he shrugged Peter's hand off. "Leave me alone. This is your fault."

"Chris, Newman had a free choice," Peter replied earnestly. "He chose to jump in front and save us from that shot. His action mirrored that of Christ's for us. Don't you see, Chris?"

"I don't want to see," Chris retorted. "God has abandoned us! Leave me to grieve alone."

"Never once has he abandoned us," Edmund whispered.

"Easy for you to say," Chris shouted. "You've never had everything you love torn away!"

Peter and Edmund exchanged looks. They knew what it felt like. They remembered what it had done to them. But Chris wouldn't understand.

With their backs turned, the brothers had forgotten about the Commander and their narrow escape. Meanwhile, the Commander had been slithering nearer while they watched over Chris. His gleaming snarl had lit up his cruel face. He was obviously suffering from lunacy. He gave a wild chuckle and pointed the gun at Edmund's back. Edmund froze and Peter opened his mouth in horror.

"Do we try to run?" Edmund whispered.

"No," Peter replied. "God saved us once; he can do it again."

"Move, airman, and I shoot him," the Commander snarled. Peter stood petrified. His eyes were locked on the barrel of the gun resting mere inches from his brother's back.

Chris turned around and his eyes widened at the situation. "You're an idiot, Chris," he muttered to himself. "Don't do it!" But he did. With an angry cry of defiance against himself, Chris tackled the Commander. The gun flew through the air. Chris had pinned the Commander to the ground when a rocket streamed overhead. They could hear the whistling scream as it approached.

"Incoming!" screamed one of the soldiers and everyone ducked down except for Chris who shoved the Commander towards the wall as he jumped away. As the Commander reached the wall and Chris flung himself in the opposite direction, the bomb hit the edge of the trench and exploded. Dirt and barbed wire flew in every direction. The men all continued to crouch down low as the dirt flew in their eyes. The Commander let out a crazed scream and was buried in the landslide of debris. When dust had settled and he was uncovered minutes later, he was found dead.

"Thank you, God," Edmund prayed, holding on to Peter's arm. Peter nodded, clutching his brother's hands. They breathed easier now that the Commander was dead but their troubles were far from over.

* * *

"Good afternoon, men!" greeted a lean man. He was tall with dirty blond hair. His face was very different from that of the Commander's. His presence was commanding yet without malice or harshness. "I am Lieutenant Blake. I am temporarily replacing your former Commander. There is another attack planned for this afternoon and I will lead you. I was told I must first speak with Private Chris Dinkfeld and Edmund Pevensie as well as Aircraftman Peter Pevensie. Are these men present?"

"We're here, Lieutenant," Chris answered. The three stepped out of the crowd.

"Thank you for responding so quickly," Lieutenant Blake thanked. "If you will please step with me this way for a few moments." He turned back to the other men. "Thank you. You are dismissed for now. This way, gentlemen." He led the three further down the trench and around the corner for some distance until they came to a bunker. They stepped inside and stopped. Lieutenant Blake turned to face them.

"Aircraftman Peter Pevensie and Private Edmund Pevensie, you are charged with disobeying orders," Lieutenant Blake explained. "Is this true and what were the circumstances that you felt gave you a right to disregard them?"

"In all honesty, sir," Edmund answered. "At first I had not meant to disobey orders. I can be absentminded at times and when I reached the field I realized I had left behind my ammunition."

Peter smirked. It was a typical Edmund thing to forget his ammunition.

Edmund ignored the smirk and continued, "I returned only to reload my gun. However, when I reached the trench I remembered that the Commander had stationed a man to shoot whoever turned back." Edmund paused as Lieutenant Blake's eyebrows were knit together. He seemed to be deep in thought.

"Continue," Lieutenant Blake urged, when he realized Edmund had stopped.

"My brother should tell the rest," Edmund replied. "He knows what happened better than I do."

Peter picked up the story. "I was the man left behind to shoot whoever turned back. As I sat listening to the battle, my brother Edmund dropped into the trench. I tried force my finger to the trigger but in my heart I knew I could never shoot one of my fellow soldiers. I lowered the gun and discovered it was Edmund. When the attack ended, the Commander returned and asked me to report. I told him the truth. He was going to shoot both of us for our disobedience, but as he pulled the trigger, a man, Newman, jumped in front of the gun and took the bullet for us. He died shortly afterward. The Commander threated us again, and we knew that he was insane. Chris here, he tackled him but a rocket exploded and part of the trench fell in and killed the Commander."

Lieutenant Blake was thoughtful for a moment longer before turning to Chris. "Chris Dinkfeld, you are charged with assault on your senior officer. You obviously have reasons that are related to what Private Edmund Pevensie and Aircraftman Peter Pevensie have just informed me of."

"All I can say, sir," Chris answered, "is that the Commander was not right in his head. We had known that for a time now. With his last breaths, my cousin Newman told me to look after the two lads. I couldn't let the Commander kill them after Newman had just died to save them." Chris looked sullenly at Peter and Edmund before returning his gaze to the officer. "I knocked him to the ground. It was quite a scuffle. I had nothing to do with the rocket or his death. Though I'm not sorry he came to it so suddenly."

Lieutenant Blake frowned at the last comment. "You say the Commander was out of his right mind?"

"Yes, sir!" Chris promised.

"As a judge appointed by my senior officers, I can see that all three of you acted under the circumstances," Lieutenant Blake announced. "I will report it that the Commander was insane and your actions under him are not to be accounted for. You are dismissed." He waved his hand to signal that the conversation was over. He wanted no thanks.

Peter gave him a smile and led the way out. "God answers prayer," he told Edmund. Edmund nodded in agreement. Chris shook his head and strayed away.

"God protects His Chosen Ones," Edmund replied. Peter reached over and tousled his brother's hair affectionately.

"We're His Chosen Ones, Ed," Peter answered. "He is ever good." They smiled at each other. But the joy would be temporary.

* * *

"Watch out, Ed!" Peter exclaimed, dragging his brother down beside him.

"Thanks," Edmund breathed. "I didn't see it."

"You have to be more careful," Peter warned. "It could easily catch you unaware." He shook his head at his brother.

Edmund peeked over the little ridge. "We're almost there, Pete," he announced.

"Come on," Peter answered. He crept up from the ridge and darted forward, Edmund following closely. Peter dropped down into a mud hole as bullets flew overhead again. He could feel the watery grime against his face and his heart pounded loudly. The remains of a tree overhead creaked and Peter rolled out of the way as part of it crumbled down.

"_You_ should be more careful," Edmund retorted. "Ug, you're on my leg, you heavy lummox!"

"Sorry." Peter crawled over Edmund and peeked around the edge. "Just a little farther, Eddie," he promised.

"I'm not Eddie," Edmund protested. "Just because I'm your darling brother…" He trailed off. Peter had already dashed towards the next hiding place. He accidentally ran into another soldier and knocked him into the mud.

"Sorry, Chris," Peter apologized and offered his hand. Chris scowled at him and refused to take it. He stood up on his own and turned away. Peter shrugged off the hard feelings and turned his gaze to the forefront.

Peter steadied his gun as he saw the Germans pour over the foremost trenches. He set his jaw. This was it. This was his first action on the field. The Allies' guns erupted. Hundreds of the Germans fell in the volley and just as many Allies died in the returning fire. It made Peter almost sick to his stomach. He knew what Edmund meant now. War was war, but this was more horrific than any battle he had ever fought in Narnia.

A low rumbling came from the horizon. Peter peered into the gray field of ash and smoke and saw what distance had hidden from him before. Tanks. The rat-a-tat-tat of the guns momentarily stopped as other soldiers saw what Peter had already discovered. Then with grim faces, they continued to fight. They would face their death today. The tanks approached and the onslaught increased. Peter fought as bravely as he had ever. He wasn't afraid of the metal beasts that conquered the field. God was with him and no one could stand against Him.

Lieutenant Blake and the other captains realized they could accomplish nothing more. To stay would bring thousands of unnecessary deaths. A formal retreat was organized. In the large bodies of men, Peter had lost sight of Edmund and Chris. He wove his way among barbed wire and mud holes. He ducked bullets and sloshed through muck. His eyes ever scanned for his brother. When at last he saw the edge of the trench, he smiled, though he felt some uncertainty at the thought that he hadn't yet seen Edmund.

Peter slid down into the trench – alone. He began to search for his brother. "Edmund!" he called. "Ed, where are you?" His eyes widened and he began to panic when he failed to find his brother. He looked around frantically. Where was Edmund? "Edmund!" he yelled. He wove his way through the returning men, scanning every face for his little brother. But none of the faces belonged Edmund.

Peter came to an abrupt halt at the far end of the trench. His breath came in short gasps. Edmund hadn't made it back. His dear brother was lying somewhere in that barren wasteland with a bullet in him. But how had it happened?

"Excuse me, sir!" Peter yelled, running towards Lieutenant Blake.

"What do you want, lad?" he demanded.

"Sir, it's my brother! He's out there somewhere!" Peter pointed to the field of destruction.

"I'm sorry," Lieutenant Blake answered. "He's gone or he will be shortly."

Peter sighed in frustration. He climbed to the edge of the trench and took out his field glasses. He peered over the top. Ruin, charred trees, barbed wire, and fallen soldiers filled the view. The field reeked with the smell of carrion.

Then Peter caught movement from one of the gunneries and he ducked down just in time. A rain of bullets flew over his head. Peter slid down the wall in exasperation. How would he ever save Edmund before it was too late?

Peter cautiously peeked over the edge again. He scanned quickly. He had last seen Edmund when they were by the charred tree that had split in half. Peter quickly located the tree and searched the surrounding area. There, on the edge of a mud hole farther off! A figure. A dark head. A body still in one piece. Edmund. The figure shifted slowly.

_Good_, thought Peter. _He is still alive._ Peter dashed back to the officer and tossed him the field glasses.

"There, sir!" he announced. "There's my brother."

"You won't be able to save him," the officer warned. "It will be too late to save him. I can't risk the lives of seventy men over that of one."

"I know, sir," Peter answered. "But please, let me go. It will be worth trying. We've been through so much. I can't give up on him now."

"Very well, Pevensie," Lieutenant Blake answered. "I hate to lose a good man like yourself but I see I cannot stop you."

"Thank you, sir," Peter answered. "I'm going over the top." With that, the young pilot saluted and handed his gun to the officer.

* * *

**Author's note:** Sorry to leave you again. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be finished. I have an overload of school I need to focus on this week. I hope, I HOPE that I will have a chapter by the end of the week. Maybe it will be finished before then. Maybe not. Thanks for bearing with me. I hope you've enjoyed the chapter today! Review and let me know your thoughts! The Lion's Blessings.

P.S. I had to do a character interview for my writing group. I did Chris. Would you like me to post it?


	16. Till Death Do Us Part

**Author's note: **Wow guys! 91 reviews! That is a lot! And 1,406 views for the month of October! Thank you so much for all your support! (I currently don't have any comments about this chapter, so go ahead and read it! I'm sure that's what you want to do anyway.)

* * *

**Chapter 16 – Till Death Do Us Part**

"_Thank you, sir," Peter answered. "I'm going over the top." With that, the young pilot saluted and handed his gun to the officer._

Climbing higher through the fire, Peter knew Edmund's time was running out. His heart pounded loudly. He knew he must find Edmund. Peter threw himself to the ground as a torrent of bullets flew overhead.

"God, I need you!" he cried out. "Where are you? How many times have you heard me cry out to you? How many times have you given me strength to just keep breathing? God, I need you!" He sobbed out the last part and gathered up fistfuls of mud as he dragged himself forward again. "I am so afraid, God! Please stay right beside me." He began to whisper Psalm 23. "Ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For you are with me!" he shouted into the wind. "Your rod and thy staff, they comfort me."

The wind blew back to him carrying a long-awaited message. "I will steady your heart, Dear One."

"Aslan?" Peter cried. "Aslan! Where are you?"

"I am with you always," came the answer. "Go. Your brother calls for you."

Peter clenched his jaw and crawled forward. He would get to his brother. The barbed-wire tore at his jacket and more than once he had to stop to untangle himself. But gradually he made progress. He could see Edmund's pale figure ahead.

"Edmund!" he shouted as he reached his brother. He dropped down beside Edmund as they hid in a large crater made by an earlier explosion. "Edmund." Peter shook him gently.

Edmund opened his eyes and smiled. "I knew you would come," he whispered feebly.

"I'll always come, Eddie," Peter promised, his fingers playing with Edmund's dark hair. "Always." Peter flattened himself against the rough ground as another one of the occasional showers of bullets flew over the top of the ridge. "We have to get out of here," he urged. "But it might be painful."

Edmund grimaced as Peter gently examined the bloody bullet wound in his upper chest. "It's bad, Pete," he whispered.

Peter turned his serious gaze to his brother's face. "I know, Ed." Peter seized the edge of his shirt where the barbed wire had grabbed and he ripped off a strip. He gently pressed onto Edmund's wound. Edmund hissed in pain. Peter looked with concern at his brother. "I'm sorry, Ed."

"No, it's not your fault," Edmund answered. He gritted his teeth as Peter tried to staunch the flow of blood.

"That will have to do until I get you back," Peter announced.

Edmund clutched his hand. "What if we don't make it back?" he asked.

"Don't say that, Ed!" Peter rebuked desperately. "We _will_ make it back!"

Edmund shook his head. "It's too late, Peter. I'm not going to make it."

Peter seized Edmund's shoulder and gripped tightly. "No, Edmund! You will live! I promise! I will take you back and everything will be fine –and –and…"

Edmund placed a finger on his brother's lips. "It's alright, Peter."

"I can't live without you, Ed!" Peter sobbed, burying his face in his brother's shoulder.

"Yes, you can," Edmund replied. "It's Aslan you can't live without. That's what matters. Trust Him." Edmund wove his fingers through Peter's hair. "You can do it, Peter. I know you can."

Peter lifted his tear-streaked face. "I _will_ get you back, Ed. I vowed I wouldn't leave you until death parted us. Here, put your arms around my neck and don't let go. Promise me that you will never let go!"

"I…won't let go," Edmund answered with effort.

"And I won't let go either," Peter promised and smiled at his brother. Edmund put his arms around his older brother's neck and held on firmly. Peter wrapped his left arm around Edmund and used his right arm and feet to push himself forward. Quickly, he realized it would be a long, slow crawl back to the trench – if he wasn't shot.

Peter focused all his attention on pulling himself forward, one inch at a time. Every so often, he would stop and make sure Edmund was alright. They didn't talk much. The grueling crawl demanded most of Peter's energy and Edmund faded in and out of consciousness. Peter tried not to jostle his brother too much.

He paused once more and his heart cried out to God. "Oh Father," Peter began to pray earnestly. "Please put your angels on either side of me. Don't let the bullets hit me or Edmund. He's been through too much. Oh, please keep him alive. Let him live. In Your Name I pray, amen."

Peter began inching forward again. His arms ached and they were cut from the barbed wire. His strength was weakening. He wanted to give up and lie down. But he knew he had to stand his ground. Edmund depended on him. He would never give up while his brother's life hung on the line. The trench seemed farther away than it really was. Peter had no idea how much time had lapsed since he had originally set out.

Peter halted again and wiped his forehead. "Edmund?" Edmund gave a low moan. "Hold on," Peter pleaded. "Please hold on, Ed." Peter started to crawl forward. He began to hear shouts of excitement rising from the trench.

"Look!" He heard the shouts.

"It's Pevensie!"

"He's got Pevensie!"

"Which Pevensie?"

"Both!"

Then the trench was before him and Peter slid into the trench in exhaustion. Lieutenant Blake tried to take Edmund from him, but he refused as he collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Peter answered. "But he is my brother. I have carried him this far, I can carry him a little bit farther."

"Very well, Pevensie," Lieutenant Blake agreed. He turned to one of the soldiers. "Fetch a drink for the man!"

Soon a canteen was thrust at Peter and he drank thirstily. "Ed," he gently urged. "Drink some." He carefully poured a little into Edmund's mouth. Edmund spluttered a little before he swallowed it. Peter smiled gratefully.

"Thank you," he addressed Lieutenant Blake. "But now I must get him to my father."

"Your father is the doctor?" Lieutenant Blake asked.

"Yes, sir. And a fine doctor he is," Peter answered.

Lieutenant Blake smiled. "Very well, Pevensie. My best wishes for you and your brother."

Peter nodded in thanks. He scooped up Edmund and rose to his feet before making his way down the trench. Edmund's eyes were closed and his head bumped on Peter's shoulder.

"We're so close, Ed," Peter whispered. "Don't give up on me now! Hold on just a little longer. We're almost there."

Peter walked as quickly as his tired legs allowed him. He was so worn. His heart felt heavy. He tripped over a stray brick and nearly collapsed on the ground.

"I can't go any further!" he cried. "God! I can't do it!"

"_You can do all things through Me, the One who gives you strength." _

Peter cried out with all that he had left. "Let him live, Lord! He's my brother. I couldn't bear to lose him. Please, Lord, let me know the struggle ends."

In the power of the strength of the Lord, Peter struggled to his feet again. Edmund's breathing was shallow and Peter could hear it wheezing out.

"Hang on, Ed," he whispered. Peter rushed forward as fast as he could. The Lord gave him strength for each new step. "Thank you, thank you," he whispered under his breath.

At last the hospital was in view. The men moved aside as Peter rushed in. They stared at his ragged and distressed appearance.

"Dad! Dad!" Peter shouted as he stumbled into the hospital with his heavy burden. "Dad!"

Doctor Pevensie looked up from the patient he was attending. "Peter?" he asked. "What-"

"Dad, it's Edmund," Peter answered.

"Edmund?" Doctor Pevensie gasped. "I thought he was at home with your mother."

"He ran away," Peter replied. "Now quick! He's been shot in the upper chest. It's been several hours. I had to drag him back."

"You lay him down on the bed, Peter," instructed Doctor Pevensie. "I'll grab my tools and the penicillin."

Peter gently lay his brother down and smoothed the blankets. Edmund's face seemed so pale against the white sheets. Peter clutched his brother's hand tightly.

"See, Eddie, it's alright," Peter soothed, brushing his free hand over his brother's face. "Dad will take care of you. You'll be fine. Really." Peter choked up and failed to say anymore. Tears filled his eyes as he knelt beside Edmund whispering a silent prayer to God. "He's going to be alright," Peter told himself fiercely. He couldn't think about what would happen if that wasn't true. He and Edmund had survived near death experiences before, but in Narnia there was Lucy's healing cordial. Here there were only doctors. And even their father – though he was one of the best doctors – couldn't fix everything. "I promised, Eddie," Peter whispered. "I promised to take care of you. I've brought you safely back. Don't give up on me, Ed!" Tears filled his eyes and he laid his head against the bed beside Edmund. "Don't give up. Please, Eddie!"

Doctor Pevensie entered and saw Peter's tear-streaked face as he cried for his brother. He gently placed a hand on his eldest son's shoulders.

"I'll do what I can, Peter," he promised. "But the result is up to God."

"I know," Peter cried. "I only wish I could take Edmund's place."

Doctor Pevensie nodded knowingly. He remarked, "I never thought I would be operating on both my sons in the same month."

Peter tried to smirk but the sound came out as a jumbled sob. "I can't live without him, Dad," he confessed.

"I know, son," Doctor Pevensie answered. "I'm going to need your help, Peter. If Edmund wakes, you are going to have to keep him calm. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir." Peter nodded.

"Good." Doctor Pevensie took out his tools and began to work.

Peter couldn't watch. He turned his head away. He trusted his dad completely, but still he couldn't watch the bloody process. In Narnia it had been hard as well. He hated to watch whenever objects had to be extracted from Edmund.

"Be strong," he whispered to himself. He closed his eyes. He had been fighting sleep ever since he laid Edmund down. But he knew he couldn't Edmund needed him. Still, he closed his eyes. It was only for a moment, he promised himself.

Eventually Peter succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep, still clutching Edmund's hand tightly. One of the men came to move him, but Doctor Pevensie prevented it.

"No, leave him," Doctor Pevensie instructed. "He wouldn't want to be moved. He wants to be here when his brother wakes up."

Several hours passed slowly while Peter slept. Edmund hadn't returned to consciousness yet. Doctor Pevensie placed a damp cloth on Edmund's forehead. He had a fever now. Doctor Pevensie washed away the mud as well. He looked down and smiled at Peter who was sleeping with his head leaning against Edmund's side. Doctor Pevensie took the rag and washed the mud off Peter's face as well. They were so much alike, he realized. While Edmund looked more like Susan in complexion, the brothers shared the same heart and spirit.

Someone began to call for Doctor Pevensie outside so he gently shook Peter awake. Peter woke with a start, somewhat stiff, and realized he had fallen asleep. He instantly turned to check Edmund. He relaxed when he saw his brother's chest rising and falling steadily. He was alive!

"Thank you, thank you, Jesus!" Peter cried as tears filled his eyes. "You're brought my brother back to me again."

"The worst isn't over yet," Doctor Pevensie reminded. "He's fighting a fever. Peter, I need you to keep this wet cloth on his forehead. Try to keep him cool."

Peter rose to his knees and took the cloth from his father. He gently dabbed it in several places on Edmund's face. "Get well, Ed," he whispered.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, Peter," Doctor Pevensie announced before making his exit.

Peter brushed Edmund's hair away from his forehead and kissed his brother gently. "Edmund the Just," he whispered. "How many times are you going to try to die on me? You know it happened at least once a year in Narnia. I thought that would stop in England. Now I see that nothing can keep you out of trouble." For the first time that day, Peter smiled.

Doctor Pevensie returned to the room and looked fondly at his sons. How they had grown! He knew that something had changed between the two. They weren't the same little boys he had known in England. They had grown up to take their place in the world.

"Dad," Peter whispered. "Dad!"

Doctor Pevensie was startled out of his thoughts.

"Dad," Peter repeated. "Edmund moved."

"It's alright, Peter," Doctor Pevensie assured. "He will probably move around a bit though he won't wake up yet." Doctor Pevensie turned away and busied himself with his other tasks.

Peter continued to stare at Edmund, waiting for the instant his brother's eyes would flicker open. He squeezed his brother's hand tighter. "Come on, Ed. Wake up, please?" His face was only inches away.

"Your breath tickles," came a small voice.

"Edmund?" Peter gasped. Edmund gave a faint cough and opened his eyes. "Edmund!" Peter shouted joyfully. "I would hug you and never let go again, but I fear that will only cause you pain and make your injury worse."

Edmund smiled wryly and opened his mouth to speak. "We made it. You were right."

Peter started to laugh but it turned into a choked sob. "I'm always right, Ed. Remember?"

Edmund nodded and smiled before closing his eyes again. "Always," he whispered.

* * *

**Author's note: **I was watching Tenth Avenue North's official music video for 'By Your Side' today. Is it just me, or does the lead singer look like a brown-haired, singing version of William Moseley? Maybe that's just my imagination. But I kind of thought there was a resemblance. Perhaps it's the eyes.

Anyway, enough musing. That was a long chapter! I really hope you liked it though. It almost made me cry just writing it! I'm sure you enjoyed Ed's rescue and the brothers' reunion. It was an intense chapter to write. Did I do an okay job? Let me know what you think. :)


	17. Father and Sons

**Author's note: **Here's another chapter for you! Edmund finally gets to meet Doctor Pevensie! Yay! About the telegram later on: not entirely sure that would happen, but there is a reason for sending it. So bear with me!

Oh, hey, any of you writers: if you haven't already, check out Go Teen Writers. It's a really cool teen writers' website that has tons of helpful articles!

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 17 – Father and Sons**

Edmund had fallen back into a feverish sleep as Peter sat beside him, bathing his forehead gently with a damp cloth.

"Peter," Doctor Pevensie said. "We need to find you a new shirt and coat."

"Why?" Peter asked in surprise.

"Peter, look at it," Doctor Pevensie instructed. Peter looked down at his blue coat that was part of his RAF uniform. He hadn't changed clothes since the plane had crashed. The blue material was faded and torn in many places from barbed wire. There was a hole in the sleeve where the bullet had penetrated and blood was crusted around the edge. There was more blood on the front where Peter had never noticed it before. He felt himself carefully. He didn't think he had another wound.

Doctor Pevensie took his hands and looked into his eyes. "That's not your blood, Peter. It's your brother's."

"He lost a lot of blood, didn't he?" Peter asked quietly.

"Yes," Doctor Pevensie answered. "I won't keep the truth from you."

"Will he be alright?" Peter begged.

"I think so, Peter," Doctor Pevensie replied. "But it will take a while. He's going to be sent home as soon as he is well enough to travel."

"Do you think that they might let me go with?" Peter asked hopefully.

Doctor Pevensie shook his head. "No, Peter. You are still an able-bodied lad whom they need. However, I may be able to get permission for you to ride with part of the way. I'm going to need someone to look after him. If possible I can see if there is some way that you could get back to the airbase. You may have to walk part of the way, but it would be better than staying here in the trenches. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Dad," Peter answered. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would try."

"But first I shall find you a new shirt," he laughed. "And I will try to see if I can get a telegram sent to your sisters."

"I'll stay with Ed," Peter announced.

"Keep an eye on his temperature," Doctor Pevensie instructed. "I'll be back shortly." With that he took his leave and left the hospital. First he went to the telegraph office.

"Hello," he greeted the telegraph operator. "I am Doctor Pevensie."

"Hullo, Doctor," answered the man with a nod. "Need to send a telegram?"

"If you don't mind," Doctor Pevensie replied.

"Course not," the man answered. "If you can pay, you're allowed to use it since you're the doctor. Other folks aren't. Only officers and doctors are allowed."

"I thank you kindly." Doctor Pevensie smiled. "And I can pay."

"Where is it going?"

"428 E. Brooklyn Street, Finchley, England."

"To whom?"

"Pevensie Family."

"Your message?" The telegraph operator took out his pencil and paper.

Doctor Pevensie began. "Found Peter, stop. Injured but now fine, stop. Found Edmund, stop. Fought in battle, stop. Ed injured badly, stop. Lost a lot of blood, stop. Being-" He was cut off.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," the telegraph operator interrupted, "but you've gone over the amount of words allowed in one telegram. Would you like to send a second?"

"Yes," Doctor Pevensie answered hurriedly. "Where did the first one end?"

"Right after it says, 'Lost a lot of blood, stop."

"Oh yes," Doctor Pevensie agreed. "Ed being sent home, stop. Will be there in a few weeks, stop. Peter back to RAF, stop. Love, Dad, stop."

"Is that all?"

"Yes." Doctor Pevensie nodded.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Doctor Pevensie paid the telegraph operator and walked away. "Now to find a shirt for Peter," he muttered.

* * *

Peter was still sitting beside Edmund when Doctor Pevensie returned. Peter rose to his feet and put a finger on his lips. Doctor Pevensie nodded and silently handed Peter a course blue shirt.

"It's a bit worn," he whispered. "Some farmer left it behind. It will have to do for now."

"Thank you," Peter whispered back. He pulled his dirty shirt off, handed it to his father, and tugged the new one over his head.

"It's a little big," Peter laughed.

"Tuck it in and it won't be so bad," his father answered. "I couldn't find a coat."

"That's alright," Peter replied.

"Peter?" a hoarse voice called.

"I'm here, Edmund," Peter answered, sitting down beside his brother again and taking his hand.

"Where am I?" Edmund asked.

"You're in the trench hospital," Peter answered.

"How'd I get here?" wondered Edmund.

"You were on the field of battle, remember? We both were. Well, they called a retreat and I made it safely back to the trench but I realized that you hadn't made it back. I went out after you. Don't you remember our conversation?"

Edmund shook his head.

Peter frowned. How could Edmund not remember that? He was clearly conscious during it. _"It will take time,"_ Doctor Pevensie had told Peter earlier. _"He might not remember much at first. But he will eventually."_

"I brought you back and carried you here," Peter continued to explain.

"Were you tired?" Edmund asked, reach out to put his hand on Peter's face.

"Yes, Ed, I was," Peter answered, taking hold on Edmund's hand. "But I stayed with you through the whole thing. I wasn't about to give up on you yet. I held your hand as the doctor extracted the bullet. After I knew you were safe, I finally fell asleep."

"Thank you," Edmund whispered as he closed his eyes again. "You were pretty magnificent."

Peter felt tears come to his eyes at his brother's statement. "Thanks, Ed," he whispered back. "You were pretty magnificent too." But Edmund had fallen back asleep. When he woke again, he was very much himself. It was then that Peter was sure his little brother was going to be alright.

Peter rubbed Edmund's hand gently. "How are you feeling, Ed?" he asked.

"A little stiff," Edmund confessed. "I can't move around much."

Peter smiled. "You're not to move around or try to get up."

"That's no fun," Edmund protested.

"No, but you will get better faster if you listen," Peter replied.

"True," Edmund agreed. "I suppose it won't be too bad, as long as you are here to cheer me up."

"I will stay as long as I can," Peter promised. "They will have to drag me back to the frontlines." That put a smile on Edmund's face. Peter smiled back. "Edmund, I think you'd like to meet the doctor who fixed you up," he commented.

"I take it that you've been in here yourself. Hmm?" Edmund prodded.

"Well, yes," Peter admitted. "When my plane was shot down, I had a bullet in my arm. It healed up well."

"I'm glad," Edmund teased. "What's the doctor like?"

"Oh, he's nice," Peter replied. "He's thoughtful and sometimes quiet. He's very skilled. I helped with a few patients when I was in here."

"He kind of sounds like Dad," Edmund answered wistfully.

While the boys had been talking, Doctor Pevensie had quietly approached from behind. Peter turned around and noticed him.

"Ah, Ed! Here he is now." Peter smiled widely. "Doctor Pevensie, meet your son, Edmund."

Edmund stared in astonishment. "Dad?"

"Hello, Edmund." Doctor Pevensie smiled.

"Dad!" Edmund exclaimed. "How-how? What?" Edmund was rendered speechless. At last he said, "I'd jump up and hug you but Peter said I wasn't allowed out of bed."

"I can fix that," Doctor Pevensie answered and, crossing the distance, he sat down next to his youngest son.

"Dad," Edmund whispered as he put his arms around his father's middle in an awkward hug.

"How I've missed you, Little Ed," Doctor Pevensie whispered back. "Only, you're not so little now."

"You're right; I'm not," Edmund agreed.

"Is there room for me?" Peter piped up.

"Of course!" Edmund laughed. Peter quickly joined in the embrace. As they were together, Peter couldn't help but hope that the adventure was over. But they weren't home yet and he knew that things weren't finished.

Edmund began to cough loudly.

"Peter, fetch your brother a drink of water," Doctor Pevensie instructed. Peter hurriedly filled a cup and returned to his brother.

"Here, Ed," Peter said. "Try to sit up a little bit if you can." Edmund tried to and Peter put his arm behind Edmund's neck for support. He tipped the cup and let some water flow into Edmund's mouth.

"Thanks," Edmund panted. "I still feel very weak."

Peter rubbed Edmund's hand and smiled faintly. "You did lose quite a bit of blood."

"Probably on you again." Edmund scowled.

"Yes, Edmund, some of it was on me," Peter admitted.

"You sound as if you have been through this before," Doctor Pevensie commented. "Would you mind filling me in?"

Peter and Edmund exchanged looks. Would their father believe their story? Could they tell him of Narnia and their adventures?

At last Peter spoke. "Dad, it will all come out in time. But you must not think we are crazy. Someday you will understand."

"Alright," Doctor Pevensie answered, sure that his sons would tell him in time. Edmund coughed again and Peter gently helped him lay back down.

"Can I sleep again?" Edmund whispered.

"Of course, Ed," Peter answered, drawing the covers up to his brother's chin. "Sleep well, brother-mine."

* * *

**Author's note: **I hope you liked it! We're going to check in with the girls in the next chapter as the story wraps up. Doctor Pevensie is going to try to get Peter back to the RAF. Let me know what you thought of the chapter!

Oh, and it's official: I am not changing the name of the story. It is staying 'Airplanes in the Night Sky." I'm thinking about doing a sequel staring Chris. Would you like that? Of course, his paths would cross with the Pevensies once again. :)


	18. Whispered Prayer

**Author's note:** Hello, my dear readers! Chapter 18 is finally finished. This is another look into Susan's head and then eventually to Lucy's. And it includes some cute sister-fluff. Read and enjoy!

**Chapter 18 – Whispered Prayer**

Susan slumped down at the table, buried her face in her arms and began to sob. Things had gone from bad to unbearable since she had received the telegram about Peter two weeks prior. Her mother had gone to stay with Aunt Alberta for a short time while Uncle Harold was away on business. Lucy was still at school and Susan hadn't seen her sister since their trip to London. She hoped things were going better for Lucy than they were for her.

Susan had unintentionally humiliated herself at a party when someone asked about Peter and she had burst into tears. She didn't want them to know. She didn't want their faked sympathy. She felt so alone in the cold world without her siblings near. Today had been awful as well. She had lost her job at the aircraft factory. They gave no reason, only a polite dismissal. Susan didn't care anymore. She was fading away as the world around her moved on. She would rather fix her makeup than try to fix the problems surging at her.

The doorbell rang and Susan moved to answer it. Her mascara was smeared and her hair escaped her bun in several places. She tried to smooth it back and she put on a forced smile as she opened the door.

"Telegram for the Pevensie Family," announced the man.

"Thank you," Susan answered, taking the telegram from him. "Hold on. I'll get the money." She hurried back to the kitchen and dug around in her purse for some money. She brought it back and handed it to the man.

"Sorry, miss," he said. "But it's ten pence more." Susan handed him the extra ten pence and closed the door as he walked away. Her hand trembled violently as she grasped the paper and she moved to the living room before she dared to open it. She knew she was breathing, but it felt like she wasn't alive. At last she forced herself to open the paper.

The first line caused her to cry out in joy. _Found Peter. Injured but now fine. _

The second line caused her to cry out in pain. _Found Edmund. Fought in battle. Ed injured badly. Lost a lot of blood. _That was all it said.

"No!" Susan exclaimed. She had been happy that Peter was alright, but news of Edmund had dampened it. She wanted to know more. She want to be there, holding his hand. She wanted to be the one to take care of him, to dress his wound and make sure he rested. That was her responsibility but he was thousands of miles away from her. Now she understood how Edmund felt about Peter. She supposed that it was a Pevensie sibling thing.

But not Edmund. Susan desperately tried to brush away the tears that were threatening to pour down in torrents. It seemed like there was nothing left to cling to. She had no great cause to throw herself into. She had no siblings to comfort her. She was so alone.

"Aslan, Jesus, whoever you are, please," Susan whispered through her tears, knowing that He was the only person who would never abandon her. "I am praying to you because I know you will answer. Bend down and listen as I pray. Please protect Peter and please let Edmund get better. I don't know how badly off he is, but ease his pain and ease Peter's heart. I could never make it without Edmund. Neither could Peter or Lucy. Peter especially. You know how much Edmund means to him. Please, God, heal him. Surely You will not deny this to those who have served You so faithfully!"

But as she said that, Susan felt a pang of guilt. The others had certainly served Him faithfully, but had she? Wasn't she the one pushing Him away? Wasn't she the one who tried to forget Narnia and the lessons she had learned? She knew she was guilty. She had refused His help in her life. Was this her punishment?

"Why do you still doubt Me?" A familiar voice floated through the room to her ears.

"Aslan?" she asked, looking around. Her eyes fixed on the mirror above the fireplace. It was misty but she thought she could make out the face of a Lion in the dimness. "Aslan! Are you punishing me because I didn't believe?"

"Dear One, why do you run from Me? Why do you run from the One who only wants what is best for you?"

"Because it hurts, Aslan!" Susan cried. "You don't understand what the ache feels like!"

"I have felt pain, Daughter of Eve. I have had the Witch's stone knife thrust into Me. Didn't that hurt? I have borne the pain of the all the sin that the world will ever commit. Didn't that hurt? Surely you know, for you saw it."

"I don't remember, Aslan!" Susan protested, knowing full well that she remembered that night.

"Perhaps it's because you don't want to," He rebuked.

"How can you doubt me like that, Aslan?" Susan demanded.

"Because I can see your heart, Susan."

"Why did you send me away from Narnia, Aslan?" Susan begged. "Why did you cast me out and exile me from my land?"

"Child, remember always that I have never abandoned you. Love overcomes all wrong and it will never fail you. Remember, Susan the Gentle. Remember Narnia. Remember Me."

With that, His presence was gone. Susan felt it. It took with it the strength she had left to protest. She collapsed to the floor and sobbed.

* * *

"Well, here we are again, Lu," Susan announced. Lucy nodded and looked around at the soda shop again. She remembered that last time Susan had brought her here; it was to break to her the news of Peter's disappearance. Lucy feared more disturbing news.

"What is it, Susan?" she asked as she looked up from her unappetizing soda. "Is it more bad news?"

Susan sighed and ran a hand through her dark hair. "Well, Lucy. I have good news and bad news."

"Tell me the good news first," Lucy begged.

"Well," Susan started. "The good news is that Peter is safe."

Lucy smiled in excitement. "I knew that he would be alright!" she exclaimed. "I knew that Aslan would keep him safe."

"Yes, well," Susan continued briskly, "Peter with reunited with Edmund." Susan was cut off again by her sister's excited whispers of thanks to God for keeping her brothers in His care. "Lucy!" Susan snapped. Lucy was startled as she stared at Susan. "I'm sorry for shouting at you," Susan apologized. "I'm a little upset right now." She bit her lip. This would be the hard part.

"Peter didn't meet Edmund under good circumstances, did he?" Lucy asked slowly.

"The telegram doesn't say," Susan replied. "However, it does say that he has been gravely wounded and lost quite a bit of blood."

"I wish I had my healing cordial," Lucy muttered. "But I suppose there would be no way for me to get it to him."

"Doesn't this distress you? How can you be so calm?" Susan demanded, her eyes flashing angrily to conceal the tears gathered in the corners.

"The truth is, Susan," Lucy admitted, "that I am distressed. But I am going to surrender that to Him. He will look after Peter and Edmund."

"I don't know how they get into these scrapes!" Susan complained.

Lucy shook her head. "Neither do I, Susan. Neither do I." After a moment's pause, she asked, "Can I see the telegram, Susan?"

"Of course," Susan answered. She searched her purse and produced the said document. Lucy took it from her and quickly scanned it. There wasn't much to read since Susan had already told her the contents. Lucy turned it over in her hand. The paper seemed thicker than a regular telegram. Lucy fingered the edge and it split under the touch. Lucy gasped in surprise.

"Susan! There is another paper!"

"What do you mean, Lucy?" Susan asked.

"Look! Look!" Lucy shouted excitedly as her trembling hands fingered a second paper. "There is a second telegram!"

"Well, read it!" Susan exclaimed.

"It says: Ed being sent home, stop. We will be there in a few weeks, stop." Lucy looked up in astonishment at her sister. "Susan! That means Edmund will be alright! They're sending him home! Oh, just think of it, Su. And I suppose I shall miss the whole thing because I must attend school," Lucy huffed.

"I'm sure we'll get you out of it, Lucy," Susan interrupted. "Does it say anything else?"

"Yes." Lucy began to read again. "Peter back to RAF, stop. Love…" she hesitated, "Dad…stop. Susan, it's from Dad!" The two girls nearly burst into tears for a second time. The customers in the soda shop looked at them strangely. Susan and Lucy ignored them.

"Lucy." Susan spoke first. "Did you notice that it said, 'We will be there in a few weeks'?"

Lucy gasped. "You're right! Does that mean- Oh, do you think that Dad is coming home with Edmund?"

"Yes, Lucy," Susan cried. "I believe it does!"

"Oh! But what of Peter?" Lucy asked. "How can he be left behind?"

"The RAF will not easily let him go, Lucy," Susan answered. "They need his service yet. But I am sure that he will join us before too long. Don't you agree?"

"I hope so," Lucy replied with all her heart.

"Why don't you spend the night at home, Lucy?" Susan suggested. "You can take the train back tomorrow."

"Susan, there aren't any trains on Sunday morning," reminded Lucy.

Susan had forgotten that the next day was Sunday. "Then I'll drive you back," she answered determinedly. "Please, Lu? I just don't want to be alone tonight."

"Well, I suppose so," Lucy smiled and, for the first time in months, she slipped her hand into her older sister's.

* * *

"I've missed you so much, Lucy," Susan confessed as the two readied themselves for bed that evening. Susan was happy to spend time with her little sister again.

"I've missed you, too," Lucy replied. "It's not the same at school without you. I miss talking to you. Remember how we used to laugh and giggle until Mum would come in and tell us to go to sleep?"

"I remember," Susan laughed. "Remember in Narnia how it was Peter telling us to go to sleep?"

"Poor Peter." Lucy smiled. "We didn't stop talking; we only grew quieter until we finally ran out of things to say and we drifted off to sleep." Lucy had been digging around in her school bag when she turned to Susan and announced something. "Susan, I wanted to show you this," Lucy admitted as she pulled a leather book out of her bag. "It's my sketchbook. I've made several drawings of Narnia that I thought you would like to see."

"Lucy, what is this?" Susan gasped in amazement as she flipped through the pages of brilliantly colored drawings. "Is that me?" Susan asked as she came to a picture of a dark haired girl dressed in crimson, dancing in a grand ballroom with a boy who looked an awful lot like Edmund. "Is that…Ed?" Suddenly, Susan was seized with fear for her brother and she turned to face to her younger sister. "What if he doesn't make it, Lucy?" she sobbed. "What if we never see Edmund again?"

"We will, Susan," Lucy answered. "And if it is not on this earth, then I know I shall see him in Heaven."

"Oh, Lucy, sometimes I am jealous of your boundless faith," Susan confessed.

"It is something to be earned with time," Lucy replied. "It does not come easily to all. But you will learn." She leaned forward and kissed her sister's forehead. "It has been a long day of excitement. I think we should get to bed."

"You're right, Lu," Susan agreed. "Let's push the beds together, shall we?" Working together, the two sisters pushed their beds together and scurried under the covers where they proceeded to whisper for several hours.

At last Susan yawned and reached for her sister's hand which she held tightly. "Goodnight, sister-mine," Susan whispered.

"Goodnight, Queen Susan," Lucy whispered back. "I love you."

* * *

**Author's note: **I have recently rewritten Chapter 1 and I added a prologue. If you return to the beginning of the story, you shall be able to read it and see if you like it better that the original one. (If you remember what that one was like. :D)

Another thought: Many of you have already seen it, but I posted a short story about one of Peter's adventures with Warren in the RAF. It is titled, "Snow Angel."

Thank you once again to all my reviewers! It is such a privilege to read your thoughts, concerns and joys throughout the story. The next chapter is on it's way already! Yay! After all, we only have a couple chapters left. :)


	19. Homeward Bound

**Author's note:** So this is the chapter that has given me so much trouble. I wasn't sure how I was going to get Edmund from Germany all the way through France and then to England all in one chapter. If it's lame, blame it on me because it isn't that late but I am tried and I have been struggling with it all day. So I decided to just post it and I'll fix it up later if I don't like it. However, I do hope that you like it. :) Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 19 – Homeward Bound**

"Jimmy!" Peter exclaimed in surprise. "I thought you were leaving two weeks ago!"

Jimmy smiled. "No, there hasn't been anyone going back to France. But now that your brother is being sent home, there are enough of us to make the trip worth it."

"Peter! Give me a hand!" Doctor Pevensie shouted.

"I'll talk to you in a bit, Jimmy," Peter said. "I'm sure we'll have time to talk on the drive." Peter hurried inside to his father.

"Peter, can you take blanket out to the truck and put on the floor?" Doctor Pevensie requested. Peter did as he was asked.

"Time to load up!" shouted the truck driver. Peter helped the other men into back of the truck first. He helped Jimmy to climb up as well.

"Peter," Doctor Pevensie said. "I'm going to need you to hold on to Edmund. Try to keep him from being jerked around too much."

"Yes, sir," Peter answered. He climbed up into the truck and sat down. Doctor Pevensie had returned to the hospital. He came back with Edmund who hadn't regained his full strength yet and was leaning heavily on his father. Doctor Pevensie helped him climb up and sit down on the blanket. Peter put his arm around his brother's shoulders and held him fast.

"I'll be riding up front with the driver," Doctor Pevensie informed. "If you need anything, tap on the window."

"Alright," Peter agreed. "Are you comfortable, Edmund?"

"As comfortable as I'll be," Edmund answered sardonically.

Peter shook his head at his brother. The truck started up and the bumpy trip began. It was a long road ahead of them; the long way home. Peter watched the scenery flash as Edmund slowly fell asleep on his shoulder. Peter longed to be home. But that longing couldn't take him there. Edmund and his father were returning to England; to home. But Peter was still needed in the RAF. Doctor Pevensie had received permission for Peter to accompany them to the outskirts of the camp before he would make his way back to the RAF base.

Peter shifted his position and rested his head on top of his brother's. He was so thankful that God had united him with Edmund again. Peter remembered when Edmund had first vowed that he would follow his elder brother to the battle field. He had never thought that Edmund would take it so seriously. Yet here he was.

As Peter sat in the back of the bumpy truck, he tried to reflect on what God had been teaching him on his journey. Was it a lesson on brotherhood? Was it a lesson on the horrors of war? No, he decided. That might have been part of it, but he understood that from Narnia. Was it to bring him closer to the One who created him? Out of all the reasons, Peter thought this seemed the closest. His faith had grown incredibly since he had started this journey. He was stronger and he trusted his Lord. Peter smiled briefly at his brother and hoped that someday Edmund would have an experience that would bring him to that point.

"You're brothers, aren't you?" Jimmy asked suddenly.

"Yes," Peter answered. "He's my brother." The other four or five men in the back of the truck looked bored at the conversation. Most of them were trying to catch a nap like Edmund.

"Where are you headed, Jimmy?" Peter asked.

"Back to Pennsylvania," Jimmy answered. "I'll travel with everyone else to England and then wait for a ship going to New York."

"What will your life be like?" Peter asked.

Jimmy shrugged. "Only God knows, Peter. My life is in His Hands to do as He pleases."

"You have such faith, Jimmy." Peter smiled. "I hope one day that I can trust Him the way you do." The truck suddenly reduced its speed as they reached a fork in the road. The first continued straight, the second road wound off to the side. The front door of the truck opened and then slammed shut. Doctor Pevensie walked around the back.

"Well, Peter, here is where our ways part," he announced. Peter nodded slowly and sadly. Doctor Pevensie turned to survey the road that Peter would take. Peter gently woke Edmund. Edmund opened his eyes slowly.

"Edmund, I have to go," Peter said.

"We're there already?" Edmund asked mournfully as he sat up.

"Yes, Edmund." Peter looked into his brother's troubled eyes. "Be brave, Ed. Keep strong. Tell Lucy and Susan that I send my love."

Edmund wrapped his arms around his brother's middle and held on like a five year old. "Please, Peter," he pleaded. "Don't go back. Come home with us."

"You know that I would if I could, dear Edmund," Peter answered. "But I must go back. It is my duty."

"I know that I cannot tempt you when duty is my opponent," Edmund replied bitterly.

"Edmund, you know that I must do what is right, even when I don't want to," Peter said firmly. "Don't make this parting harder than it has to be, brother-mine."

"You're the hard one," Edmund retorted. "I mean-" He was cut off as he began to cough loudly. His face began to turn red. Peter laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Peter – water!" Edmund choked out.

"Edmund, stop joking around," Peter replied.

"Not – joking…" Edmund's voice trailed off as he slumped over.

"Dad!" Peter exclaimed. "Quick!"

Doctor Pevensie climbed up into the back in an instant. He quickly laid Edmund down on the floor and Peter cradled his brother's head in his lap. Doctor Pevensie checked his pulse and listening to his breathing. His pulse seemed steady. He struggled with Edmund's shirt as he inspected the place where Edmund had been shot. Red blood was oozing through the bandage. Doctor Pevensie looked grave.

"Andrew!" he snapped at one of the other men. "Inform the driver that we will be stopped for a bit and grab my bag." Grumbling, Andrew climbed slowly out of the truck. "Hurry!" shouted Doctor Pevensie. Several moments later Andrew came back and handed Doctor Pevensie his bag. The Doctor dug through it and pulled out more bandage. "Peter," he instructed. "Hold this bandage firmly over the wound to stop the bleeding. He's had too much excitement and that nasty cough he picked up is irritating it." Peter did as his father asked him. Several minutes later Edmund's breathing steadied and the blood flow ceased. When Edmund opened his eyes again, Peter was leaning over him.

"I'm so sorry, Edmund," Peter apologized. "I just thought that you were joking with me."

"That's alright," Edmund whispered. "Do you still have to go?"

"Yes, Edmund," Peter answered. "They are expecting me by nightfall. I must go."

Edmund reached his arms out and Peter held on to him tightly. "Farewell, my brother," Edmund said.

"Goodbye, Eddie," Peter whispered into his brother's hair. "God bless you." Then Peter switched places with his father. "Thank you for all you have done, Dad," Peter thanked. "I will be home as soon as I can."

"I know you will," Doctor Pevensie answered. "You have made me proud, very proud, my son." Peter shook hands with his father before climbing out of the truck. "Farewell!" He lifted his hand and waved before he started off down the dusty road.

* * *

_Three weeks later…_

"Edmund, sit still or you will rupture your stiches again," Doctor Pevensie commanded as he watched his fidgeting son over the top of the newspaper he had picked up in the train station.

"I can't help it, Dad," answered Edmund as he tried to control himself. "I want to be home so badly."

"I understand," Doctor Pevensie assured. "But that doesn't give you reason to be careless and rupture your stiches like you almost did when your brother left." Edmund's face fell. "I'm sorry to remind you of that," Doctor Pevensie apologized, pulling his youngest son closer to him. "Not everything always works out perfectly."

"Like my stiches?" Edmund asked wryly.

"How does your mother handle you, Little Ed?" Doctor Pevensie teased.

"Oh, she doesn't," Edmund quickly answered. "Peter does. That's his job. Susan scolds me, Peter yells at me and then Lucy comforts me when it's over. Then Mum makes cookies. Mmm," he sighed. "She makes the best snicker doodle cookies."

"That's why I married her," Doctor Pevensie joked.

"Dad!" Edmund protested fondly.

"What? She lured me in with her baking skills," Doctor Pevensie said without a hint of deceit.

"That's not true, Dad," Edmund reminded.

"Of course it's not," Doctor Pevensie agreed. "How'd you grow up so fast, Ed? You're too clever for me."

But Edmund didn't answer. He was too busy staring out the window as the scenes that flashed past became familiar. "We're almost there," he breathed. "Almost home." The train began to brake and Edmund knew they were arriving at the station. He was on his feet the instant it stopped. Doctor Pevensie calmly stood up, though he was almost as excited as Edmund. He took his bag down from the overhead rack and followed Edmund off the train. The station was busy at this time in the evening. Many women were returning from work and just as many were waiting to board as they went to their night jobs. Doctor Pevensie and Edmund wove their way through the confusion. They left the station and began the quiet walk to their house.

Edmund could hardly contain his excitement but he tried his best. He certainly didn't want to rupture his stiches as he had come so close to doing when he said farewell to Peter. Warm light from front windows bathed the near empty as the father and son walked home. Edmund's khaki uniform was muddy and worn and Doctor Pevensie's wasn't much different.

They were returning as altered people. Edmund had been forever affected by what he had seen on the field of battle. He had witnessed what cruel weapons men could create and he was thankful that Narnia, while having brutal battles, had sheltered them from greater torment. Doctor Pevensie had grown in skill as he worked with difficult cases. He couldn't help them all, but he prayed for the soldiers that he had a chance to witness to. He had become a greater believer in the power of prayer.

Edmund and Doctor Pevensie began to walk up the few stairs to the front door of their house. All was quiet but the lights were on. Edmund thought that through the curtain he could make out the shape of Lucy sitting silently at the piano. Doctor Pevensie knocked on the door.

There was a short breathing space as they eagerly waited for the door to open. They heard the click of the handle turning and then Lucy's face appeared in the light peeping out from behind her head. It made it look as if she had a halo around her head. And Edmund thought that as this moment his sister seemed like an angel. Her mouth opened in surprise and it was a moment before she could speak.

"EDMUND!" Lucy screamed in joy, throwing open the door and jumping at him.

"Careful, Lucy," cautioned Edmund as he held onto her tightly. Mrs. Pevensie had heard Lucy's scream and she came running. She stopped in the door at seeing her son and her husband.

"James," she whispered quietly. Doctor Pevensie stepped into the light and caught his wife in an embrace. She began to cry.

"Shh, my love," he soothed. "We are home now."

"But, Edmund," Lucy asked as she suddenly let go. "I thought you were wounded."

"I am." Edmund grimaced as her hand brushed over his wound. "But I'll be alright shortly. Peter sends his love, Lu."

"When will he be home?" she asked. Her blue eyes searched his dark ones for a sign of hope.

"I don't know, Lucy," Edmund confessed. "But he promised to return safe and sound."

Lucy smiled and then hugged him again. "I've missed you so terribly, Edmund."

"Where's Susan?" Edmund asked suddenly.

Lucy looked uncomfortable. "She, well, uh, she isn't here right now, Ed."

"Then where is she?" Edmund asked, a little hurt that his older sister wasn't there to greet him.

"I don't know exactly," Lucy confessed. "She left the house about two hours ago saying she'd be back after a while. But here, you're tired and you should probably sit down."

"That does sound nice," Edmund agreed as Lucy led him inside to the familiar living room. Doctor Pevensie and Mrs. Pevensie followed shortly afterward, their hands intertwined. Everyone was talking and embracing and kissing (that was Doctor and Mrs. Pevensie) when the backdoor opened and then slammed shut.

"I'm home, Mum!" came Susan's voice.

"Shh," cautioned Doctor Pevensie. "Let's surprise her."

"Lucy? Where are you?" Susan called. "Are you-" She stopped in surprise when she saw her father and her brother sitting on the couch with her mother and sister. "Dad? Edmund?" Susan whispered in astonishment. She began to cry. "I'm such an awful girl," she sobbed. "I wasn't even here to greet you."

Doctor Pevensie rose to his feet and enveloped his eldest daughter in a hug. "It's alright, Susan," he soothed as she cried into his shoulder. "We've only just arrived."

"Still, I should have been here," Susan responded.

"All that matters is that you are here now, my little Susie," Doctor Pevensie answered.

"Ahem," Edmund cleared his throat. "That's really sweet but can I please see my sister now?"

"Oh, Edmund!" Susan tried to laugh. Then next minute Edmund found himself with an armful of Susan Pevensie, which was more than he bargained for. "I've missed you so much, Edmund," Susan murmured.

"I've missed you too, Su," Edmund answered. "Peter commanded me to bring you his love as well." Susan began to sob again. "Okay, Dad, you can have her back," Edmund announced. He was hopeless when it came to stopping Susan's tears. That was Peter's job. They all began to laugh. Lucy leaped up from her seat and joined in the embrace while Doctor Pevensie once again kissed his wife.

"If only Peter could be here," Lucy whispered. But no one else heard it.

* * *

**Author's note:** For whatever reason, the first part was very hard to write but after that it was very easy. I'm so happy that Edmund and Doctor Pevensie made it home. The story is almost at a close now and I can't wait to write the ending! I hope you've really enjoyed the story. Which I think you have from the amount of reviews I have received. Thank you all so much! I wish I could respond to those of you who have reviewed as guests. Everyone has been so encouraging! Thank you, thank you, and may the Lion bless you for your kindness!


	20. Together Again

**Author's note: **Written in honor of Veteran's Day. Thanks to all the men who served in our wars but especially to the men who served in World War Two. We all know that the characters in this story are fictitious but they represent the men who bravely fought and sacrificed everything for us. When I started writing, I thought it would be completely unbelievable to have Peter and Edmund meet up, but then I talked to my great uncle who fought in the pacific during WW2. He had enlisted and his brother had been drafted. They were able to meet up one day on an island. It even made it into the paper back home! So not only would I like to dedicate the ending of this story to the veterans of World War Two but I would also like to dedicate this to my Great Uncle Vin.

* * *

**Chapter 20 – Together Again**

Peter began to walk down the dusty road. He looked back over his shoulder to where he had last seen his father and brother. The truck was just starting up and soon it charged away in a cloud of dust. Peter turned back around and kept walking. Now that he was alone, he finally allowed the tears that he had held back to fall. He had been brave for Edmund's sake but inside he had felt torn in half. He wanted to stay with Edmund to look after him and make sure he recovered. But he knew he had to return to the RAF. He knew that he couldn't break his agreement.

Peter continued to walk along, kicking at the stones in the road. He wondered how far it was to the airbase. He seemed so alone and abandoned. But he wasn't completely alone and he knew it. As he walked, Peter began to pray for the safe travels of his father and brother back to their home in Finchley. He also prayed for his mother and sisters as they eagerly await the arrival of their loved ones.

A truck roared up the road behind Peter and he moved over to let it pass. The driver slowly stopped and yelled out the window asking if Peter would like a lift. Peter, of course, agreed and soon he was bumping his way to the airbase. When the truck slowed down as it reached the airbase, Peter thanked the driver and hopped out. He walked quietly along, hands in his pockets, as he headed towards the main office. But he was stopped before he could reach it.

"Peter!" Warren shouted as he hurried over. Peter turned around and grinned.

"Warren!" The two friends heartily shook hands. "How have you been?" Peter asked.

"Well enough." Warren shrugged. "It hasn't been the same without you. Where on earth have you been all this time?"

Peter smiled. "It's a bit of a long story."

"And I want to hear your tale in full," assured Warren. "But I'm sure that you are supposed to see the officers first and by the time you are done with that it will be time for supper."

"Yes," Peter agreed. "I will talk to you at dinner. But Warren? You've been managing alright?"

"Yes," Warren answered. "I have taken part in several of the major battles. I even earned an award."

"Good for you!" Peter exclaimed. "What has happened to our friend, Galvin?"

Warren replied sadly, "Galvin was shot down about two weeks after you were. It was a pretty bad wreck. There was no way he could have survived even if he had been rescued." Peter nodded gravely. It made him all the more thankful that God had brought along Newman and Chris to rescue him out of the wreckage of his plane.

"Well, I should let you go. I'll talk to you at supper, right?" Warren asked.

"Of course," Peter answered. Warren smiled and waved as he walked away. Peter turned back towards the office but right as he reached the door, he felt someone clasp his shoulder in a friendly manner.

"Well, I see you have looked after yourself well, King Peter."

Peter spun around. "Jones? What are you doing here?"

"You didn't think that they would keep me in England for the eternity of the war, did you?" asked Jones.

"N-no," stuttered Peter in surprise. "I just – you were the last person I was expecting to see here."

Jones laughed before he sobered. "Warren Meeks told me that you had received a letter that said your brother, King Edmund, had followed you here. Do you find him?"

"Yes," Peter answered. "Through many twisted events, God brought us together again. And he also reunited us with our father. But how have you been, Jones? It's been such a long time."

"Yes, it has been a long time," Jones agreed. "But I have finally come to terms with what happened in my childhood and the plans God has for me here."

"I'm very glad to hear that," Peter stated.

"I want to hear your story but I can wait. I'm sure you are expected in the office and I'm fairly certain that you are hungry."

Peter laughed. "Yes, I am working up an appetite tonight. I hope we're having something good."

Jones shrugged. "The food isn't the best but we make do. Farewell, my King."

"Farewell, Jones. And please, you don't have to keep calling me by my titles. Just Peter Pevensie, please."

"Of course, Peter Pevensie," Jones answered with a smile.

* * *

Peter lay awake on his cot, staring up at the top of the tent. He couldn't sleep. The day had gone fairly well. At dinner he had related the events of his separation to Warren and Jones. But still he was unsettled. His thoughts continually returned to his younger brother. He had to admit that he was jealous of Edmund. Why couldn't he go home as well? Why couldn't some other pilot take his place? He felt a growing sense of discomfort and almost anger. In the faint early morning light that was peeking into the tent, Peter found his Bible and flipped it open. He stopped turning the pages at Genesis 4. He began to read.

_But for Cain and his offering He had no regard. So Cain was very angry and his face fell. The LORD said to Cain, "Why are you angry, and why has your face fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is for you, but you must rule over it." Cain spoke to Abel his brother. And when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel and killed him._

Peter looked up from the page. He prayed that he would never be angry enough to kill his brother. But he in the past he had been angry enough to neglect his brother to the point where he never thought he would find Edmund again. No, Peter shook his head. He wouldn't go there. It was all over and settled and he would never abandon Edmund like that again.

Peter began to turn the pages of his Bible again. Exodus, Deuteronomy, and Job all flashed past until the pages stopped at Psalm 37:8. _Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath! Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil._

"Father," Peter whispered, "whatever you're doing inside me feels like chaos right now. But I know it is something bigger than I could ever imagine. I don't know whether you are changing me or using me to change others but I hope that my life points to You."

Peter closed his eyes. Now he would finally be able to sleep serenely. All traces of his anger and jealousy had disappeared. All that was left was a sense of peace. And now sleep quickly overtook him.

* * *

_April 1945_

Peter stared out the dark window of the train compartment in disappointment. He was tired, cold and he just wanted to see something familiar. He had hoped to watch through the train window to see Finchley coming into view but it was around four in the morning and still dark out. There was hardly anyone else on the train except those returning from late night excursions or night jobs that ended early in the morning.

_Finchley_. He wanted to see it, to hear it, smell it, touch it. He wanted to be home. His family would be sleeping. They wouldn't expect him. He had wired them from Canterbury and he wondered if they had had difficulty falling asleep with expectations of his arrival. He sighed and looked out the dark window. Occasionally a bright light flashed quickly and then was gone.

Peter had parted ways with Warren at the train station in Canterbury. Warren was headed home to his parents in Wembley. Peter had wished him well and they promised to try to keep in touch. Warren hoped to have a chance to meet Susan again. He wondered if she had changed much from the school girl he had admired. He hoped not.

The train was finally slowing down and Peter could finally see as the station came into view. The lights seemed strange and unfamiliar. It was then that he realized with disappointment that it wasn't the station at Finchley. A few people boarded the train but none came to the compartment when Peter sat. The train lurched forward again and was soon speeding along the tracks. Peter knew that the next station was Finchley.

When the train slowed and eventually stopped, Peter was the first person to alight from the train car. There was a young lady standing on the edge of the platform and she cautiously approached him.

"Thank you for serving our country," she said shyly.

Peter smiled at her, easing her fear. "It was my honor," he answered.

"Thank you," she said again before melting away into the darkness of the shadows scattered about the platform. Peter slung his bag over his shoulder, winced as the corner of his Bible poked him, and left the station.

He was in Finchley at last. He drank in the familiar sight of the little houses and looming trees that had been there for centuries. He looked at the street lights with a new appreciation as he turned the corner. And as he saw his house appearing at the end of the street he began to run toward it. He felt a powerful urge to whoop and shout that he was home at last, but with a wry smile he restrained himself. The whooping could wait until later.

No lights were on at the Pevensies' house and the front door was locked. Peter walked around to the backdoor, which was also locked, but he knew where they kept the spare key. He inserted the key into the door and stepped into his home. He returned the key to its place and quietly shut the door, locking it behind him again. Then he slipped his dusty boots off and placed them on the rug next to Edmund's.

His feet made no noise as he walked through the kitchen and the living room, smiling at the familiarity of everything. He crept up the stairs and into the room he shared with Edmund. One bed was empty but the other held the sleeping form of his brother. Peter slipped into the room and closed the door in case Edmund should have the sudden urge to scream. He tiptoed over to the bed and gently sat down. And as he did so he remembered that today was Edmund's birthday.

Peter leaned over Edmund's face and whispered in his ear, "Happy Birthday, brother-mine."

Edmund woke with a start at the familiar voice. "Peter?" he whispered sleepily.

"Yes, Edmund, it's me," Peter replied.

"Peter!" Edmund shouted in surprise. "Oh, you're finally home!" He held on to Peter and never wanted to let go again. Peter hugged him back and thought the same thing.

"Oh, Edmund, I have missed you so much," Peter announced.

"I've missed you too," Edmund answered. "Have you had any other adventures without me?"

"Of course not, Ed," Peter teased. "Yes, I actually have. I have several experiences that you will hear about in time. Edmund, there was this little girl who could have only been seven or eight. She was so cold and I gave her my coat. She called me an angel. That's what makes it worth it, Ed, when they appreciate your help."

Edmund reached out his hand in the half-light to touch his brother's face. He frowned. "Wait…Peter, you grew a little bit of a beard."

"Like it?" Peter laughed. "It's been a long trip, Edmund, and I am so glad to be home." He playfully ran his fingers through Edmund's hair, making it even messier.

"Come, Peter, I think there are two girls who would like to see you as well as your father and mother," Edmund replied.

"Of course," Peter answered. "I hadn't forgotten about them. I just wanted to see you first."

Edmund quickly climbed out of bed and followed Peter to the girls' room. Peter opened the door and peeked in. Edmund crept off down the hall to find his parents. Peter stepped into the dark room and first went to Lucy's bed.

"Look at this nice bed. I wonder who it belongs to," Peter joked and he flopped onto it. Lucy screamed, but when she realized it was Peter, she threw her arms around his neck, holding on tightly. Susan jumped out of bed when she heard Lucy scream and she seized her pillow.

"Get away from my sister!" she shouted and began whacking Peter with the pillow.

"That's not a very nice way to greet your brother," Peter replied.

Susan dropped the pillow. "P-P-Peter?" she stuttered.

"Dear Susan," Peter responded and took hold on her hand. Susan began to cry and she flung herself on top of Peter and Lucy. Footsteps were heard in the hall and Edmund entered the partially illuminated room bringing with him Doctor and Mrs. Pevensie.

"Dad! Mum!" Peter cried. He tried to loosen himself from the death grips of his sisters. At last he was free and he hurried to his parents.

"My good lad," Mrs. Pevensie whispered and kissed Peter's forehead.

"Welcome home, son," Doctor Pevensie greeted. He shook hands with Peter before Susan and Lucy enveloped their brother again. The Pevensie family was laughing and crying and hugging, and Peter thought his heart would burst for joy.

"I knew you would be home for Edmund's birthday, I just knew it!" shouted Lucy. Peter didn't care that it made his ears ring, because it was true. _He_ _was_ _home_.

And he realized once again that home was not the house he lived in, but home was the dear ones he loved so much. He had come so far to find them and now he was home.

* * *

_Epilogue_

World War Two came to a close on V-E Day (Victory in Europe Day), May 8, 1945, but it was not the end of the strife. Earlier, the Japanese had been bombed by the Americans, and in Europe, the Germans were surrounded by the Allies. The Axis Powers had finally crumbled in defeat.

Throughout the remainder of the war, Jones distinguished himself as a capable airman and received many promotions and awards. He stayed with the RAF until his sudden death in 1949. Peter was unable to keep in correspondence due to Jones's frequent changes of address.

Jimmy Hawthorne returned to his home in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania. Jimmy was still called a miracle and many were amazed at how agile he was without his left leg. He lived with his mother until he married his childhood sweetheart. They raised their family of five children on a farm surrounded by the Amish countryside.

Returning to his family in Wembley, Warren Meeks attended college the following year. He received a degree in physics and became a professor. He was a frequent visitor at the Pevensies for many years and still showed an interest in Susan.

Chris Dinkfeld safely survived the war and was reunited with his wife and two young daughters who barely remembered their father. Relationships became strained because, during her husband's absence, Margie Dinkfeld had begun attending church and recently accepted Christ as her savior. Chris refused to have anything to do with God, but He was at work in Chris's soul. Chris's story is not yet finished because the One Who Saves has many great plans for his life.

Proud father and mother, Doctor and Mrs. Pevensie found favor in the sight of God and man because of the upbringing of their children who feared the Lord. A happier couple could not be found in Finchley.

Lucy Pevensie, the youngest of the family, studied diligently in school and she knew more than most girls her age. A smile almost always graced her cheerful face and she grew into a very pretty girl but she never cared for things like that. Lucy was too busy storing up treasures in Heaven to worry about her looks and who might care for her. Her family secretly agreed that she was admired more for this.

However this was not the case for Susan Pevensie. Twenty-one found her as a social butterfly, attending all the popular parties with her pathetic friends. She found nylons more pleasing than her Bible and she certainly never mentioned Narnia anymore. She simply pretended that it was all just a childhood game. She lied to herself and believed that He never existed and that she was never a queen.

Edmund Pevensie was as stouthearted as Lucy in his belief in the Lion and Narnia. He had nearly indestructible dreams and ambitions which his family supported him in. Edmund was attending law school and planned to become a lawyer for those who couldn't afford one. He would be the voice for the widows and the orphans just like the Bible commanded.

At the end of the war, Peter Pevensie was released from position in the RAF. He felt God calling him to seminary. Peter faithfully followed his Father's guidance and soon he would become the pastor of a small congregation. He had hopes of finding the wife God would lead him to. Peter remained close to all his siblings, including Susan. He was perhaps the most attentive to her since they had always been the closest. But soon he found that she had begun to reject even him. And his decision to become a pastor greatly impacted that separation.

But life did not last long for the faithful believers. Their time had come quickly and He was calling them Home.

In 1949, Peter Pevensie was twenty-two years of age when he died in a tragic train wreck that also took the lives of his beloved siblings, Edmund and Lucy, as well as his parents, Doctor and Mrs. Pevensie. His cousin Eustace and three other family friends, Professor Kirke, Polly Plummer, and Jill Pole, were also killed. However, Susan Pevensie was left behind. Alone and fallen from her faith, Susan struggled through the bitter pain as she lived with her Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold who were grieving the loss of their only child, Eustace. Peter, Edmund, Lucy and their parents were reunited in the New Narnia. There they live for eternity with Aslan and many of their beloved Narnian friends and subjects. And they pray that, one day, their sister and fellow monarch, Queen Susan the Gentle, may join them there and that she would at last come Home to Him. But like Chris Dinkfeld, her story is left unfinished and only He knows how the story will truly end. But for the others it was only the beginning of the true story.

"All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before." – C. S. Lewis, _The Last Battle_

_The End_

* * *

**Author's note:** This is my last Author's note for this story. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S DONE! I'm not sure whether I am very glad or kind of sad. Thank you, thank you to everyone who either reviewed, followed, favorited or gave advice, or any combination thereof! I have greatly appreciated all of your support through the past few months. You guys are amazing! I pray that God will do many great things through you. Keeping reading and writing and using your talents for His Glory!

The Lion's Blessings to all of you,  
narniagirl11

P.S. Feel free to check out some of my other stories. I hope to have a chapter for "Their_Majesties at Cair Paravel. gov" soon and perhaps some more for "Fragments of Glory" plus many other short stories.


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